Billie Finstock vs The Supernatural
by True.Ravenclaw.of.Albion
Summary: As the Coach's daughter, Billie wasn't exactly the kind of kid who had lots and lots of friends. As a sports junkie, she had no time to hang out with people anyway. Except the boys from the Lacrosse team, she spent plenty of time with those troublemakers ... Until she finally caught up to what was going on around Beacon Hills.
1. New Year, New Look

**Hey there! This is something I've been doodling in the marges of my other work for a while now. I plan on going though the whole series, with very few changes to the original story. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I do writing it! Reviews are sooo much welcome, that's what keeps me going!**

 **I don't own Teen Wolf, or anything else I might reference here** **.**

* * *

There was a knock at the door and the muffled voice of Coach Finstock on the other side.

"Peanut? Are you still up?"

Billie opened the door to let her dad in. Bobby Finstock stood on the tresholdof his daugter's bedroom, taking in the sight. There was a mountain of clothes strewn about the floor, the closet was open and almost completely emptied onto the unmade bed. Billie's books were piled haphazardly on every surface, her backpack lay gutted near her desk and her laptop was nowhere to be seen, though he could hear music coming from it. His darling tornado of a daughter was standing in the middle of this battlefield, in her pink pajamas, with more clothes in her hands.

"What the hell happened here? The Blitz?"

Billie laughed at her father's bulging blue eyes and gaping mouth.

"No, I'm just trying to get my outfit ready for tomorrow. It's the first day of school and I want to make an effort."

"Make an effort? What for?"

 _Men are so thick sometimes_ , she thought.

"Make an effort to look better, to … be a little more social. You know, normal teenager stuff …"

She looked so eager, so fragile, standing there in the middle of a hoard of all she possessed, so clueless about her own world. Bobby shuffled awkwardly between mounds of clothes and put his arm around his daughter's shoulders, squeezing her against his side.

"That's good, peanut. I'm glad you're doing this, it that's what you really want for yourself."

She smiled at him.

"It is, and not just for school. You know, now that I have a fancy new JOB, I have to inspire respect. It's kind of in the spotlight too …"

He laughed and tapped her shoulder.

"Right! You got it like a champ. You'll be starting a career, I'm sure about it! Alright, try to get a little sleep tonight. You've got a big day coming up. Lift leaves at a quarter past seven!"

He then shuffled back to the door and out of Billie's room, leaving her to her outfit conundrum.

And what a conundrum it was! She was a mile away from her comfort zone already and nowhere near ready. Matching clothes, make-up and hairstyles were alien to her. Billie Finstock was not a girly girl!

Growing up, she had always been into sports. As if the Coach's kid could ever be 'not into sports'! Her mother had tried, with all her might, to get her 'little blossom' to play with dolls and wear dresses, but it was all to no avail. In the end, she gave up.

She would not think about her mother tonight, she would not think about her mother tonight, she would not think about her mother tonight! Wishing her here was not only useless, it was painful and frustrating. She didn't need her mommy, she just needed a friend. A friend who was a girl and who knew about girly stuff. Too bad Billie didn't have any of those in stock! The only girl she could call right now was Erica, and she was even less in touch with her feminine side than Billie. There was no way around it, she'd have to wing it.

The sports bag first. Running shoes, clean socks, sports bra, deodorant, hair ties, leggings and a long-sleeve shirt. _Maybe a hoodie? Naaahhh, too warm for running. Oh, my earbuds!_ With one good thing done, she moved on to her backpack. She was very aware that she was wasting time and pushing back the hair-pulling and decision-making, but what the Hell! A different notebook for every class _color-coded obviously,_ a binder, post-Its galore, pencil case, pocket hairbrush, water bottle … The reading book would go in last minute tomorrow. _Did I pack my locker stuff already?_

Almost an hour later, the backpack was closed, the clothes were mostly back in their drawers, and the room looked like only a minor air raid had happened. But Billie still was at a loss as to what to wear tomorrow. _I should just give up and go starkers,_ she thought, then laughed at the mental image that popped up. _That would be one Hell of an entrance!_ _Well too bad,_ she decided. It was too late to make any decisions now, she still needed to sleep before the very big, very long, first day of the school year.

* * *

"Come on Dad, let's go!"

Billie's voice, a squeakier and shrillier version of Coach's voice, rang through their house in the early morning. Bobby came down the stairs, still fixing his collar.

"Can't believe I ended up with a kid who can't wait to get to school. I should have you committed" he grumbled as he grabbed his car keys on his way out.

"Hey, you know I have to deal with both locker rooms this morning, right? While you get to sit in your office with your morning coffee" she called out as she headed out the door (Coach turned back at the mention of coffee but she was already holding up his thermos), "I will be on my hands and knees, scrubbing the lockers. Count your blessings, mister!"

Coach gratefully grabbed the silver container and could hear the beloved coffee swishing inside. He unlocked the car and put his bag in the back, while his daughter did the exact same movements on the other side with her own sports bag.

"It's all part of the job, peanut."

She closed the passenger door and they backed up into the street.

"I know, I just wish teenage boys didn't smell so bad."

* * *

Billie Finstock had gotten the assistant-coach job at Beacon Hills High over the summer. The job had been vacant for a few years now, ever since Coach Lahey left. Truth was, not many people were capable, or willing, to work under Coach Finstock. Billie's had probably been the only resume the principal got for the place. He was nice enough to give her a real, honest job interview. She suspected her nomination had less to do with her skills than with her ability to calm her father down, but she nailed the job (and the salary) anyways so who cared!

Part of that lovely job was to keep the locker rooms clean. The janitors mopped the floors and took out the garbage alright, but everything else was her responsibility as Assist. So while Coach was in his office, preparing his first classes, she was cleaning the benches, sanitizing the equipment, and power-washing the lockers, all the while singing Marina and the Diamonds at the top of her lungs. Bobby was not very comfortable hearing her singing 'I'm gonna be your bubblegum bitch' but at least she did it outside of school hours. _And at least she's out of her Shakira phase!_ He shuddered at the memory. He had to admit she had done a pretty nice job and the lockers smelled of fresh evergreens afterwards.

Billie ended up getting ready for school in the girls' locker room. After overthinking everything about her outfit, she had given up. But then she found a rather cute, high-waisted black skirt at the bottom of her closet, lodged between her camping stuff and her old photo albums. It must've been her mother's. Amazingly, it fit. Not too far from it, she had found her old blue knit sweater. It had been made by Grandma Finstock a decade ago but, blame it on the old lady's cataracts, it was Billie's size now, if a little too cropped for today's fashion. After finding these two, the rest almost magically fell into place. Black suede ankle boots, a black bow in her hair, minimal make-up, and voilà!

 _It's not like I could do anything more than minimal make-up anyways,_ she thought as she almost took her own eye out with the mascara brush. The only daring choice Billie had made was a dark pink lipstick. She looked herself over in the mirror and sighed, _it'll have to do._

A few heads turned when she walked in the main corridor. Nobody had ever seen Finstock Jr in a skirt, let alone with make-up! Those who knew of her saw that as a rare sighting, like the Loch Ness monster. But most students were too busy finding their lockers, or chatting about their summer, to care much. Two of them, McCall and Stilinski, were just coming in through the doors. Those boys were permanent fixtures on the Lacrosse bench, so she was quite friendly with them.

"… dragging me down to your nerd depths? I'm a nerd by association. I've been Scarlett-nerded by you." Stiles was ranting about something or other, as usual, when she came within earshot. She came over to them quietly. Scott saw her but said nothing, a mischievous smile on his lips.

"Howdy boys!" she said, right into Stiles' ear. The nervous boy jumped a mile high while his friend laughed out loud.

"Hey Billie, nice look" said Scott, twirling his Lacrosse stick in his hands.

"Yeah, hey Billie … Woah, Billie!" Stiles raised his head and did a double-take, his buzzcut head bobbing on his neck. "You look, woahh … yo-you look … like a girl!"

"Wow, noting gets past you, right Stiles?" she answered with a dramatic eye roll. "So, are you boys gonna warm the bench with me again this year? I still have my card deck, we can play poker…"

"Yeahh, looks like it's just gonna be you and me this year, Finstock. Scotty here says he'll make first line!"

Bille looked at the shaggy-haired boy, skeptical.

"Oh really, and what does your inhaler say about that, huh?"

It was notorious that Scott McCall needed his inhaler just to tie his sholaces.

"I've trained all summer for this. I know I can make it, I'm ready."

His determined look broke Billie's heart. _Poor kid, he really wants it sooo bad!_

"Well I hope you do" she said sincerely. "I'll tell Coach to keep an eye out for you."

They each went their own way, separating with a quick wave or, in Stiles' case, a mock military salute.


	2. On the Field

Billie scoured her Math class, looking for a very specific curly blond head. She smiled a predatory grin when she found it, and quickly moved her stuff to the empty desk next to her target.

"Hey Lahey! What's up? Did you have a busy summer at the cemetery, or was it quite dead?"

Billie was the only one allowed to tease Isaac about his grave-digger job, but only because he knew that she thought of it as 'like, the coolest job, ever, seriously'. He smirked.

"Never gets old, does it?"

"Just like your clients."

He looked up at her absentmindedly, then his eyes widened for a second at the sight of her.

"Hey Finstock, when did puberty finally hit?"

She said nothing and sat down very gracefully, then turned her face to him and pulled her tongue at the blue-eyed boy. He chuckled lightly.

"But seriously, it's a nice look for you. Is there a special boy? Did you meet some hunk this summer that you're trying to impress?"

The first bell rang as they were getting their books out.

"No, no boy to make my heart skip a few beats. I'm doing this all for my own benefit, I'm trying to get out of my microscopic comfort zone …"

Class began before Isaac could reply. He took notes at an alarming speed while Billie looked through the window, out to the park.

 _So far so good. No tragedy has hit because of the new look. People actually like it, I guess I can look good if I try_ , she mused, lost in her head. Isaac was still scribbling down every word the teacher said, sparing a glance at her from the corner of his eyes. She was completely lost in her thoughts. Knowing that making an effort had a noticeable reward was encouraging her to keep going. She didn't want to be The Popular Girl, she'd leave that to Miss Lydia Martin, thank you, but the wallflower act seemed to hold less appeal suddenly.

* * *

"Finstock, you're way out of your league on this. You haven't listened to a single word the teacher said today, have you?"

Billie, who had tried to focus and failed miserably, was already biting her lips nervously. Math was not her forte, far from that. Isaac chuckled more and more just looking at her.

"And now you've ruined your lipstick, you've gone and eaten half of it!"

Billie hit him on the arm, hard enough to make him wince.

"Stop laughing! Well that's too bad for you really" she added when he only kept laughing, "I was gonna ask you to help me with Algebra in exchange for my help in Chemistry, but since you're being a pain in the neck and mocking me, I guess I'll have to reconsider …"

His laughter stopped immediately when she said the word 'chemistry'. She knew he was a train wreck in that subject, and she saw on the schedule in his hand that they were in the same group. _Why not take advantage a little?_

"D'you d-do you have Harris right now too?"

She nodded, still glaring up at him from her 5 feet 6 inches. _Damn, that boy is tall!_ Even in heels, her eyes were only level with his chin.

"You'd help me, really?"

A delicate, undecided shrug followed that statement.

"Okay please help me get my grade off the floor and I'll give you my notes, I'll explain what you don't understand, Hell I'll even take the tests for you! Just please please please help me out!"

Satisfied by his groveling, Billie smiled and shook his hand firmly.

"You got a deal, Lahey. Save me a seat, I'll go fix my face. See you in a minute!"

* * *

Billie hurried into the girls' bathroom and went straight for one of the mirrors to fix herself. _Being girly is a full-time occupation!_ She wasn't alone at the mirrors though. Lydia Martin, queen bee extraordinaire, was touching up her mascara right next to her.

"Good morning Mina" said the redhead without a blink.

"Hi Lydia. You know you're the only person, like, in the whole world, who ever calls me like that? Like, ever?"

Lydia looked her up and down for a second.

"It's your name, isn't it?"

"Well yeah, but …"

"Then it's fine."

Done with her touch-up, Lydia put her stuff back in her handbag.

"By the way, nice look today. You look surprisingly good in a skirt. Glad to see there's really a girl in there."

"Tactless and blunt as always, my dear Lydia."

Both girls had known each other for a long time, long enough to have reached a weird status quo, where they both respected each other and their separate worlds, but rarely interacted. Still, a few harmless barbs from time to time kept them both on their toes.

"Welcome to my side of the schoolyard, Mina!"

* * *

Billie got to her seat in Chemistry class just in time, breathing hard. _Never running in heels again!_

"Geez, how much time does it take to put on that face?" Isaac snickered.

"Shut up, I'd like to see you run in those heels … No scratch that, you'll probably hit your head on every doorframe you'll go through. Then you'll get a severe concussion and there goes my Math grade, down the drain with your brain!"

"How poetic."

Mr Harris was infamous at Beacon Hills High. He was known to be impossible to please and to pick on his students for his bitter enjoyment. Most kids wondered why he got into teaching in the first place if he hated his students so much. Luckily, Coach Finstock had given his daughter a few pointers to try and get on his (practically non-existent) good side. As she took all the notes she could at breakneck (or break-pencil) speed, she slowoly came up with a plan. _Operation Teacher's Pet is go._

* * *

After school, Billie took off to the Coach's office. He was busy going through the name list for this afternoon's practice. Lots of boys tried out at the beginning of the school year, but Coach Finstock rarely found any new impressive talents. New kids put their names up for the try-outs, but most of them would get murdered on the field by the end of practice and go home with their heads down and caked in mud. It was sad really, but Coach tried to always keep his players and work with them, unless someone got mysteriously better (or worse) during the summer. He barely acknowledged her arrival.

"We're still stuck with Greenberg."

Billie groaned. Greenberg was a good kid, but way too awkward and clingy. And he had a distinctive wet socks smell coming off him. And he spittled when he spoke. Coach had secured the boy's undying affection when he got a pair of bullies off his back 2 years ago. Both Finstocks have had cause to regret it ever since.

"At least we got Danny and Jackson. Those two might be the best players I've trained!"

Billie sat down in the plastic chair in front of his desk.

"What about the new guys? Any good names in there?"

He handed her the list. It had been hanging on the school billboards since last spring and there were quite a few names on it. So many hopeful, wide-eyed boys. So much disappointment this afternoon. One name made her do a double-take.

"Lahey? What the Hell?"

"What is it, peanut?"

She pointed at the piece of paper.

"Isaac Lahey. He helps me out in Math. I didn't know he wanted to try out, I didn't even know he knew what Lacrosse is ..."

"A Math geek? Can he even run? I've already got one severe asthmatic on the team, I can't keep taking in strays. What's he like, this boy?"

Billie was suddenly taken aback. _How do you describe Lahey?_

"Well ... He-he's tall. Over 6 feet, I think." She stretched to get her hand up to show her dad. "And he ... he likes comic books ... Or he liked comic books? I don't know, really."

Coach looked at her face. He knew his little peanut was almost always around boys because of her involvement in sports, but that usually meant he knew all of them and could keep an eye on her and her firends. This boy came out of nowhere, he hadn't heard about him before, ever, and that worried him, more than he thought it would. Especially now, with her all prettied up and talking about this ... this Isaac, and blushing?

"What else d'you know about this boy?"

He tried his hardest to sound casual. He was just asking her about a potential player, after all.

"Uhh ..." Billie really didn't know what to say. "He's blond, I don't know Dad. I know he's a mess in Chem class, so I bargained with him to exchange notes. We don't exactly share a secret handshake everytime we meet."

Ohh boy yeah, he would have to keep an eye on that Lahey kid!

* * *

Out on the field, boys were stretching and putting on their gloves when Billie arrived, clipboard in hand and a brand new whistle dangling from her neck. It was a little gift from her grandparents for landing her first job. They lived in Arizona now, in an old fols community, but Bobby had called them as soon as he knew. She couldn't wait to try it.

Scott and Stiles were coming to the bench, talking as always. _God, these two are such gossip girls!_ Before she could get to them, Coach called McCall to the goal for some target practice. Standing next to him, she 'hmphed' quietly.

"Huh Coach?"

"Yeah peanut-I mean Billie?"

 _Thank God in heaven none of the players heard that!_ Coach suddenly felt embarrassed as Hell and his ears were going red.

"I've got a good feeling about McCall this year. I think he might be potential player material."

The slight squeak in her voice betrayed how nervous she was for her friend. She tried to keep a cool tone nevertheless.

"McCall! Really? What in the world makes you think that?"

"Well I know for a fact that he spent all his summer training and practicing. I'm curious to see the results, and I'm impressed by his dedication."

Coach blinked at her for a moment, then whistled and they both watched as Scott got the first ball hi the head and fell down with a thud.

"Oh yeah" Coach said sarcastically "the boy is a real Maverick!"

It was Billie's turn to look at her shoes and have beet red ears. But then something changed. Scott caught the ball. And the next one and every one after that! Even Jackson Whittemore, the team captain, couldn't get one in the net.

Everyone was staring, slack-jawed, except for Stiles and Billie, who were loudly cheering for their friend. She looked smugly at her father's exasperated face. He sighed.

"Fine, fine, fine! You got that one right."

He then put his arm around her shoulders and squeezed her, wearing a proud smile.

"You were absolutely right, peanut."

Nobody else heard this, but Billie smiled brighter than ever.

* * *

Isaac was indeed trying out. Billie saw him searching for a stick in the mess of equipment near the bench. _It's so weird to see him over here!_ She usually associated Isaac with note taking, numbers and bad puns, not with open field, physical activity and sweaty gear. She got to him, clipboard in hand.

"Hey Lahey! What are you doing here?"

Isaac looked down at her, he seemed really nervous. He stuttered when he spoke.

"M-My dad wanted me to do some ... some sports this year. So I-I thought I'd try out."

"For the bloodiest, most violent sport on the whole school activity board? What, are you trying to get brain damage? You know, if you don't want to help me out in Math you can just say it, you don't need to get a concussion in real life so I'll back off ..."

It was supposed to make him laugh, at least a little, but he looked down at his shoes, silent as a tombstone (pun intended). _Boy, that kid is really scared of disappointing his dad!_ Billie picked up one of the sticks and held it up to him.

"Here. This one should be okay for the try-outs, but if you make the team we'll order one for you, one that's your size."

He looked at her, face scrunched up in confusion.

"My size?"

"Yeah, the size of your stick varies depending on your arm's reach and your preferred hand position."

He seemed surprised at first, but then exploded in giggly laughter. She now realised how what she just said could have a double meaning. She had just made a huge innuendo about his package, wow!

"Okay, I know it's funny. Now stop laughing and go practice passes with the others. You need to impress the Coach!"

He was bent over, holding his sides, and his laughter was more of a whezing now from the lack of air.

"Stop laughing and get to work, you big slowpoke!" She hit him repeatedly with her clipboard, pushing him and his red, merry face towards the field. He was still laughing to himself when practice ended an hour later. But he still got to make a few good passes. He was pretty good, for a newbie. She had to give him that. Coach motioned for her to come to him and pointed directly at the blond boy.

"Hey Bille, is that your friend Lahey?"

She gave a quick nod.

"Whoa he's tall alright. And a good shot. Where d'you say he was hiding?"

"Huh ... My Algrebra class? He works for his dad at the cemetery, too."

"That's unusual. Anyway, write him down on the reserve list. We'll see how he does in actual practice."

Billie was beaming proud of her friend, she could have gone out there and hugged him. But then Whittemore opened his loud mouth and ruined her mood.

"Yo Billie! That stick is broken, get me another one!"

He was near the goals with Danny. How such a sweetheart could be best friends with such an insufferable jerk was beyond her understanding.

"Oh shut up Whittemore! If you're down to blaming the equipment for your performance issues, you're too pathetic to be on the team! Stop whining and get bac kto practice!"

She could see him fuming from where she stood. She and Jackson had a long history of hating each other. They both had a temper and neither wanted to keep it in check. Their murderous back-and-forth was one of the classic pieces of entertainment in the locker room.

* * *

 **That's all for today, hope you enjoy it! I really love writing about a character from the sidelines, I'll try to get to episode 2 soon enough, promise!**

 **Reviews are a welcome treat for the hungry writer!**


	3. First Line

**A/N: Hey everyone! I'm still trying to set Billie Finstock in the Beacon Hills life before we go on to the real stuff, but it'll start soon enough, promise!**

 **As always, I do not own Teen Wolf (I so wish!) or anything else (song, TV show, movie or else) that I might reference here.**

 **Have fun!**

* * *

The thunderstorm was getting louder and the pelting rain against her bedroom window made the room dark and gloomy, but she didn't notice any of it, because Billie was sooo mad right now. Sitting at her desk, barely blinking at the screen, she grabbed her cell and furiously texted Erica.

 **-You are a horrible HORRIBLE person !**

Erica's answer was quick to follow.

 **-Which episode are you watching?**

 **-The first one you psycho ! What is wrong with you?**

 **-Shut up and keep watching**

Within five minutes, Billie was calling Erica to get the live commentary from her (pretty much) only girlfriend.

"Hey Billie! So, 'you hooked yet?"

"Duuude, who is that?"

"The big brother or, as I think of it, the only reason to watch the show. Alright, so far, d'you like Sam or Dean best?"

"Hhmm … I think I like Sam. He's got those puppy eyes, you just wanna hug him all the time. But, I'll admit that either one showing up at school would be a massive yes, God!"

Both girls giggled.

"Hey d'you have a paper for gym this year?"

Sigh.

"Nope, Dr. Barnett says moderate physical activity is good for me. I hate her."

"Don't worry about it, I'll try to get my dad to go easy on you."

"Thanks, that's sweet."

"You know I'm sweet on you," Billie hollered over the phone, making her friend laugh. Billie was pretty much Erica's best friend in school, if not her only friend. They didn't spend much time together, because Finstock Jr. was always running somewhere for school or work or sports, but they called and texted like this all the time. Discussing fictional crushes and sharing nail polish colors at lunch made Erica feel almost like any normal teenager.

"Hey, d'you think you could bring some polish tomorrow? My nails are fugly!"

"Sure, I was gonna do mine anyway. Which color d'you want?"

"I don't know … I was thinking maybe blue?"

Billie chuckled.

"Come on Rickie, I'm gonna need more than just 'blue'. I've got 17 bottles of it!"

Now, Billie might not have been a girly girl according to anybody's standards (even hers), but the one girly thing she was comfortable with was nails. She had always loved putting on polish and her mother used to do her nails every week. Nowadays, Billie was doing her own once a day, sometimes twice! She could do patterns, effects, just about anything. Nail polish was the only reason she knew what Sephora was. It was also the only well organized part of her bedroom. Over seventy bottles, all arranged chromatically of course, on glass shelves over her desk. Billie took a picture of her blue polishes and sent it to Erica.

"Hmm, third one from the right. It's all glitter-y."

"Deep Blue Sea, good choice! I'll bring it tomorrow, and thanks for telling me about the series, I'm enjoying it, a lot!"

"I knew you would, see you tomorrow, Billie!"

"G'night Rickie!"

She wasn't lying, she was enjoying the show her friend had told her about, but some of it was a little too much for her to handle right before bed. Especially the end of the first episode. _Oh my God what the hell no!_ Erica received one more angry text before going to bed that night.

 **-A HORRIBLE HORRIBLE PERSON ! I'm gonna have nightmares all week**

 **-As long as the Winchester brothers come and save you, sweet dreams!**

* * *

By lunchtime the next day, Erica and Billie were sitting at their usual table, Erica glaring at her tuna sandwich like it had offended her, Billie stuffing down shepperd's pie like there was no tomorrow. A shadow came over the Assistant Coach as Lahey came to sit next to them, his tray piled high with everything there was to eat at the cafeteria it seemed.

"Hey, can I sit here?"

Billie glared up at him.

"Of course not! This table is only for the subversively casual dressers. YOU can sit with the Lacrosse jocks over there." she said, pointing at Whittemore and his friends further down the room. For a moment Isaac looked frozen in place, confused, but Billie couldn't hold her laughter in anymore and she cracked up, tapping the chair next to her. "Come on, sit down Lahey. You know I'm just messing with your head!"

Isaac sat down gingerly next to Billie. He looked around, as if he expected someone to come and tell him he REALLY coudn't sit there.

"So what's up at the graveyard? Anything worth calling the Scooby Gang?"

"Uh n-no, not really. Nothing new there."

"Ah, that's a shame, I've always had a crush on Fred." Billie said, giggling along with Erica. "What about you Rickie?"

"Oh I don't know, I was more of an Addams Family fan growing up. By the way hello Isaac" the blonde added with an exaggerated batting of her eyes. The poor boy gulped, his eyes suddenly glued to his plate.

"Hey Erica. How 'you doing?"

Messing around with the awkward blond boy was one of Erica's favorite pastimes. She fancied herself an outrageous flirt and loved making Isaac so uncomfortable he squirmed in his seat.

"Immensely better now that you're here" she added with a wink, while Billie was almost choking on her meal.

"Um … I-I … What d'you …" the boy managed to stutter before Billie came to his rescue.

"Aww come on Rickie, you shouldn't play with him like that. He's such a fragile little thing."

And both girls just kept on giggling hysterically seeing Isaac's offended face. They were still chuckling mildly when Billie broke out the nail polish bottles and pushed her lunch aside.

"Fair warning Lahey, if you don't like chemical fumes, you might want to step away a few seats for …"

"'You opening your nail salon again? God, don't you girls have anything better to do with your time?"

A duet of "no" resonated in his ears. He stood up and grabbed his still untouched plate, grumbling about 'damn girls and their hobbies' and left them to it.

"See you on the field after school Lahey!" Billie felt obligated to yell at him before he got out of earshot. He waved absentmindedly without even looking back and both girls focused on their nails.

"So, Gomez or Fester?"

Erica snorted.

"Gomez obviously! I don't have a fetish for baldies, come on!"

"You were right, what the Hell happened to those nails of yours? Did you dig up a corpse in Lahey's graveyard?"

"Ha-ha, not funny. I don't get why you like him, he's weird and awkward and he can't even look me in the eyes."

Billie grabbed her friend's hands and kept her eyes on the polish brush.

"One: I hang out with him because he's my friend. You should know I like my friends weird, right? Two: he can't look at you in the eyes because you keep doing your level-best to make him uncomfortable as hell, even I couldn't meet your sultry seductress gaze, girl! And three: why the hell d'you say I like him?"

Left hand done, down to the right one.

"One: thanks for calling me a freak, you brat. Two: I'm not that hot, calm your hormones. Three: You soooooo do! And he likes you too so it's fine."

"Rickie have you smoked your carpet? I don't like him like that and he doesn't like me like that either. Get that crazy idea out of your head right now."

"Isaac and Billie, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G …"

Grumbling, Billie reminded her friend that she had control over her hands at the moment.

* * *

Billie was, as always, near the players' bench. Practice was about to start. Coach was lining the players up for the first elimination and giving his assistant the list of players she needed to keep an eye on. She smiled at hearing McCall's name. Then she heard it again, coming from someone else.

"SCOTT! Scott, wait up!" Stilinski was running after his friends, frantically waving his arms like a giant, uncoordinated bat. He stopped Scott just as he was walking out on the field.

"Stiles, I'm playing in the first elimination man, can it wait?"

"Just hold on okay?" He took a deep breath and kept rattling on, a panicked edge in his voice. "I overheard my dad on the phone. The fiber analysis came back from the lab in L.A. They found animal hair on the body from the woods!"

"Stiles I gotta go" Scott grabbed his gear and ran onto the field to play.

"Wait-wo Scott, you're not gonna believe what the animal was! ... It was a wolf." The boy muttered, a worried look in his eyes as Coach whistled. Billie ran out along with the players.

"Let's go gather 'round! Bring it in, come on!" Coach and Billie were surrounded by the players. Scott raised his hand, a goofy smile on his face.

"Got a question McCall?" she asked. He looked at her, confused.

"What?"

"You raised your hand, you have a question?"

"Oh! No ... I was just ... nothing, sorry." Coach took it from there.

"Okay, you know how this goes. If you don't make the cut," he spoke in a clipped tone, "you're most likely sitting on the bench for the rest of the season. You make the cut, you play ..." he added in a now fanatic tone, his blue eyes bulging out of his head, "your parents are proud ... Your girlfirend loves ya! HA!" He stopped in front of McCall. "Everything else is ... cream cheese."

"Now get out there, and show us what you got." Billie added, just for good measure. "Come on!" And then her loud whistle sent the boys running on the field.

She stood at tha edge of the field with her clipboard in hand, whistle between her teeth. Coach was giving her the notes on the first round of elimination, his eyes squinted in concentration, checking the passes, the throws, the tackles.

"Jackson is still in good shape, his aim needs a little work. McCall is ... on the ground again."

Scott had just been tackled by another player. _This was bad, hella bad. He just got the ball for the first time and he was sprawled on the grass already!_

She saw him get up, glaring daggers at Whittemore. Of course it was Whittemore, that entitled jackass couldn't let another player steal the show. She whistled another faceoff, coincidently between McCall and Whittemore, prepared to watch the blood splatter. Scott got a hold of the ball and dashed towards the goal, avoiding every other player, twirling like a ballerina to avoid the checks. Coach was stunned silent watching this. Then McCall, faced with a blockade of players, just front flipped over them without even slowing down and threw the ball into the net in one fluid movement.

The crowd erupted in loud cheers, Billie's voice joining them. She was so proud of her friend for kicking ass, especially Jackson's ass!

"McCall! Get over here!" Coach had gotten over his surprise at the boy's antics. "What in God's name was that? This is a Lacrosse field! What are you, trying out for the ... gymnastics team?"

"No Coach" Scott said shaking his head.

"What the hell was that?"

"I don't know, I was just trying to make the shot." _Poor Scott!_ The boy looked crestfallen.

"Yeah well you made the shot. And guess what ... You're starting, buddy. You made first line!" Coach nudged Scott on the shoulder and went off, leaving Scott and Billie face to face, both grinning from ear to ear. Out of sheer joy, she jumped in his arms and kept jumping up and down, hugging/choking him for a moment. Then, letting go, she fist-bumped him and pushed him towards the bench, a huge grin on her face. She was so happy for him, Scott worked so damn hard to get to this point. She went back to assisting Coach with her bright smile still in place.

* * *

 **Alright, that's it for today, there's so much to do at the beginning of the story! Phew! I'm going to try and put up another chapter this week, to get things going. We'll get to Lydia's party, yay! And SCott's first full moon ... Reviews are so-so-so welcome! It's what keeps me going!**


	4. Weird Locker Room Talk

On Friday night, after the skirmish, Coach Finstock dropped his daughter off at the team's party. He was nervous at the idea of letting his little peanut go to a party, but he let her go anyway, hoping she would be her responsible self. Her attire wasn't helping his nerves either. Billie was wearing a nude colored paisley sundress and 3-inch high wedges. She was wearing make-up on her eyes and she had straightened her black hair. She had rarely looked so ladylike before, and it tugged at her dad's heartstrings to see the little slugger becoming a woman.

Billie, on the other hand, didn't feel ladylike at all. Make-up, dresses, long hair flowing down, she was a mile away from her comfort zone and she was going to go even further by attending a high school party. The girl blew air out of her cheeks, trying to calm down her racing heart, and rang the doorbell before she could change her mind. Lydia opened the door in an instant and stood there, blinking at the newcomer.

"Hello Mina!"

"Hi Lydia! Blame Danny, he's the one who invited me," Billie said sheepishly. Danny always extended invitations to her, probably out of pity and assuming she would decline as she always did, but for once she had taken him on. The redhead smiled her trademark hostess smile.

"Well come on in sweetie. Do you want anything to drink?"

"I heard wonders about your punch …"

"You'll love it, trust me! By the way Mina," she added as she steered the girl through the party, "nice look. You should really dress up more often. I've seen a few heads turn …"

Lydia handed Billie a glass and winked at her before seeing to her many other guests.

After a few glasses of DE-LI-CIOUS punch, Billie wandered around the place and almost spit her drink when she saw Stiles in the crowd, dancing like there was no tomorrow. He stopped doing the 'waterhose' long enough to see her and wave his hand in the air, calling her name.

"Hey Billiiiie! 'Wanna dance?"

He then proceeded to do the 'robot' and Billie just stood there, laughing.

"Sure! Where's your better half tonight?"

"Pffft! Better half, I'm the better half," he said, but still he shook his head (to the rhythm of the song) towards Scott. Billie was happily surprised to see the boy dancing with the new girl. These two looked really good together.

"Well, well, well! Nicely done, McCall! Come on, Stilinski, let's show the lovebirds what real dancing looks like!"

She then joined Stiles in his spazz-tastic moves.

* * *

Scott seemed to be having a really good time with the new girl, but he suddenly appeared next to Stiles, bent over and looking ill and in obvious pain. Stiles immediately followed his best friend outside. Slightly worried, Billie followed a few steps behind. She saw Scott driving away like a maniac and the new girl on the front steps, looking forlorn. Billie felt sorry for her.

"Hey, you're the new girl, right?"

She nodded shyly.

"I'm Billie, Billie Finstock, and you're …?"

"Allison Argent. I came here with …"

"Scott McCall, yes I know. Saw you two dancing …" Billie was saying, awkwardly, but then she was interrupted.

"Allison."

A tall, dark-haired, older-looking guy was standing next to both of them.

"I'm a friend of Scott's. My name's Derek."

Billie had a strange feeling about the guy, she knew that she knew him, but had no idea where from. But Allison was clearly not comfortable with the guy and her face, when he offered her a ride home, was all it took for Billie to meddle.

"Oh that's great, my shoes are killing me! D'you think you could drop me off as well?"

He looked taken aback for a moment, but recomposed his face quickly and tried to smile charmingly, nodding. The girls took seats in his black Camaro and they were off. There was a deafening silence in the car as they drove, broken only by Allison's directions to her home. As soon as they got there, Billie got out as well, saying she lived right around the corner. She waited with Allison until the car was gone and then turned to the new girl, sighing tiredly.

"Sorry about that, you looked a little desperate not to be alone."

Allison nodded, grateful.

"Thanks, that was really sweet of you. D'you really live around the corner?"

"Ahh nope," Billie chuckled. "It's fine, I'll just walk home."

"Are you sure? You could come in and call, or my dad could take you home."

"Nahh, I'm good. I'm used to walking outside at night. I'll see you at school!"

Allison waved at her before going inside. Billie took off her wedges and started walking towards home. That little ride had just added a good 15 minutes to her walk, but it was a gorgeous night out. The full moon was high in the sky, there was a light breeze and it was quiet all around her. Going through an empty park, Billie let out a high pitched wolf howl, laughing to herself. She was a fan of old horror movies and the full moon always made her think of werewolves and other creatures of the night.

Not long before her 1:00 AM curfew, Billie got home. She came in to find her dad asleep, sprawled on the couch, in front of old M*A*S*H* reruns. Tiptoeing around, she put a throw on him, picked up his empty coffee mug and headed for the stairs. Coach snorted in his sleep.

"Billie-peanut, is that you?" he mumbled, his eyes still closed.

"Yeah, I'm home. It's not curfew yet," she said softly, putting a hand on the bannister.

"That's my girl. G'night peanut!"

He went back to his deep slumber almost immediately.

* * *

The next Monday, Billie was passing around some pieces of equipment in the locker rooms when she saw Scott practically collapse against the lockers, next to Stiles. She stopped her rounds, staring through the metal netting at the boys. The spazzy boy looked at his friend's crestfallen face.

"Did you apologize to Allison?"

"Yeah." _Ohh, that explained it!_

"So d'she give you a second chance or …?"

"Yeah." Stiles smiled at that.

"Yeah, alright! So everything's good!"

"No." Scott's face was still frozen in a slightly terrified expression.

"No?"

"Remember, the hunters? Her dad is one of them." _Hunters?_

"Her dad …?"

"… shot me …" _Say what?!_ Thinking she must have misheard, Billie bent forward, making a mental note that she looked a bit too much like a cartoon spy.

"Allison's father …"

"… with a crossbow …" _WAIT WHAT!?_ There was no way she heard that wrong, but what the hell was she hearing, really?

Stiles looked more confused than usual and stood silent for a second.

"Allison's father …"

"YES HER FATHER!" Scott suddenly yelled at his best friend. Billie jumped and then blushed at her embarrassing situation. McCall took a breath, then started panicking.

"Oh my God, oh my God …"

Stiles came up to Scott and slapped him in the face.

"No Scott? Hey Scott! Snap out! You okay? Hey, he didn't recognize you, right?"

"N-no, no no no, I don't think so."

"Does she know about him?"

"Oh I-ah, I dunno! What if she does?" Scott started making high-pitched whining noises while Stiles was trying to quiet his best friend down.

"Ok ok, just focus on Lacrosse …"

Then Coach's whistle brought Billie back to reality and she followed the team outside, playing that strange conversation in her head. Allison's father was a hunter. So far that was the only thing that made sense. Apparently he used a crossbow. That was slightly unusual but not unheard of. But the 'shooting Scott' part made no sense at all. The boy had no sign of any injury, he couldn't have healed in a night or two! He seemed fine at the party, at least until he just ran away ...

"Let's go! One-on-ones from up-top!" Coach yelled out from the bench. "Jackson! Take a long stick today. Atta-boy."

Another loud whistle and the players started. Coach was focused on their tackles, their leg work, their throw, their aim. He muttered instructions to Billie who took it all down like a stenographer and clocked the new recruits who were running around the field. Their endurance run was a good 2 miles and if Coach judged their time too slow, they would be warming the bench all season long.

Lahey was running. It still felt strange and alien to have him around as one of the players, but Billie was slowly getting used to it. He looked much taller and more imposing in his equipment. With the shoulder pads on, he looked like he could barely fit through a door. So far, he wasn't too slow to play, but there was definitely some improvement to be made there. She jotted down his time when he passed in front of her and went to sit in the grass, red-faced and wheezing.

"Not bad Lahey," she said "but I don't have much hope for you if there's ever a zombie outbreak. Especially since you'll most likely be the first to meet'em!"

He looked at her, still unable to speak, still catching his breath. She turned around and followed her dad on the field. McCall was on the ground again, Jackson smirking cockily nearby.

"Hey McCall! Hey McCall! My grandmother can move faster than that. And she's dead! D'you think you can move faster than the ... lifeless corpse of my ... dead grandmother?"

"Yes Coach"

"I can't hear you."

"Yes Coach" Billie could hear the aggressivity building up in Scott's voice, which was weird, because the boy wouldn't hurt a fly.

"Then do it again." Coach pushed him back towards his starting position, yelling "McCall's gonna do it again! McCall's gonna do it again!"

Billie tapped her dad on the shoulder. "That was mean, did you really have to bring up Nana?"

Coach chuckled. "Billie come on, it's just motivational stuff."

"It'll bite you back in the ass, mark my words Mister."

Both boys were in position, waiting for the whistle. Billie and the other players could feel the tension electrifying the air between Jackson and Scott.

Coach nodded to Billie, who whistled twice. "Let's go!" Scott ran, rammed into Jackson, hard, and got him to the ground. There was a sickening pop sound and Whittemore was writhing on the field in pain. Scott was on his knees, holding his head and Stiles ran up to him, while everybody else ran to Jackson's side.

Coach checked Jackson, who was holding his shoulder and moaning in pain. "Billie go get the nurse, we can't move him like that."

Nodding once, Billie ran to the nurse's office. She had heard the fear and concern in her dad's voice. Whittemore was badly hurt. She got the nurse and came back to the field with her as fast as the lady could follow, which was desperately slow in Billie's opinion. While the woman was checking Whittemore, Billie looked around, trying to find Scott and Stiles, but the boys were nowhere to be seen. Getting more and more worried by the second, Billie took off towards the locker rooms. If Jackson was badly hurt, Scott could very well be just as hurt, right? She slowed her pace before getting to the locker room door and heard the boys' voices inside. She stopped before entering, just in case they would be changing out of their uniforms.

" ... but that's Lacrosse. It's a pretty violent game if you hadn't noticed." Scott sounded a bit out of breath, but not in pain. Billie almost let out a relieved breath, but then she heard Stiles and froze.

"Well, it's gonna be a lot more violent if you end up killing someone of the field." KILLING SOMEONE?! What the bloody Hell were those two crazy idiots talking about? "You can't play Saturday, you're gonna have to get out of the game."

Billie choked back a loud expletive at that. Scott had just made first line, there was no way he wasn't playing Saturday. It was the opening game!

"But I'm first line ..." Scott's voice, almost too quiet for Billie to hear, still made her nod vigorously in her corner behind the door.

"Not anymore." Stiles' voice held a strange finality in its tone. Having heard more than enough crazy talk from these two for the day, Billie made sure to hit the door with her foot before entering gracelessly.

"Hey guys! Scott, I've been looking for you. Are you okay? That was a serious collision back there, are you hurt?"

Both boys shook their heads, trying to look inncoent, Stiles failing miserably.

* * *

Hey Billie peanut, I need you to go with Jackson to the hospital. His parents are gonna meet him there, we just need an official school representative to go with him."

Not five minutes after she got back in Coach's office, Billie was put to good use. Since she had the Assistant Coach job, it fell upon her to accompany Jackass Whittemore to the E.R.

Grumbling, she picked up her backpack and headed for the nurse's office again. Jackson was there, with ice on his shoulder, and Lydia cooing and doting over him like a designer-clad mother hen.

"Alright, Whittemore, let's go." He followed her to the parking lot, Lydia speed-walking in her 3-inch high heels behind them.

"I assume you are in too much pain to drive, so Lydia, can we go in your car?"

"What's wrong, Finstock? Can't drive?" Jackson was trying to rile her up, and failing. "Daddy won't let you take the family van?"

She looked at him, unimpressed, and shook her head. "I don't have a license, Jackass. I can try and drive your pretty car if you insist, but I'm sure you'll have an attack before we're out of the lot. And since I am apparently responsible for your well-being until your mom and dad meet us, shut up and let your girlfriend drive."

* * *

 **There you have it, the first strange things Billie witnesses ... And she has a natural gift to get herself in the middle of things apparently!**

 **This is getting more fun the more I write it. Tell me if you have any ideas that you want included, if you wanna see interaction with other characters, or when you think Billie will find out the truth! Will she take it well, will she freak out? And what about Coach Finstock, how will he live with his little penut getting stuck in the supernatural whirlpool? Will he know, or will Billie lie to her dearest daddy?**

 **Until next time!**


	5. Play The Game

**A/N: Hello everyone!**

 **I am beyond sorry for abandonning you all for, what, 2 months now? I have no excuses, other than the fact that I just finished my Bachelor's Degree in November, and then worked 60+ hours a week in December (ahh the perks of working in a toy store during Christmas time!) Add friends and family to that, plus not one but 2 tonsils infections, and now i'm finally back online! I hope you'll forgive me ...**

 **As always I own nothing of this, except maybe the lovely Billie. Have fun reading!**

* * *

Billie was pacing the hospital corridor in front of Jackson's exam room. The doctor had just entered and Lydia was on the phone not too far, chatting it up merrily with someone about something or other. The Whittemores were on their way, both having been delayed in getting to Beacon Hills Memorial. Coach was texting his daughter every 40 seconds, hoping for good news for the opening game. She had nothing to answer yet, but it looked bad. In between her dad's frantic texting, she tried to keep up with Erica's latest insane idea.

 **\- I'm thinking left ear**

 **\- Seriously? Those hurt more than most …**

 **\- It ll look great!**

 **\- U R insane woman!**

 **\- So R U freak of nature :D**

Jackson came out of the exam room with the doctor, an air of defeat on his face. The words 'separated shoulder' rang out, bringing the same defeated look on Billie's face as well. Before texting her dad back, she went up to Whittemore and, in a remarkable show of solicitude, asked how he was feeling.

"How d'you think I'm feeling Finstock? I'm in serious pain, I probably won't be able to play Saturday because of stupid-freaking McCall, and we'll most likely lose the first game of the season!"

"I meant you, idiot. Are you going to be okay waiting for your parents or d'you want me to stay a while longer? Maybe take you back home directly?"

His eyes bulged a little at her concerned tone, and he answered quietly, looking down at his feet.

"No, I'm fine Finstock. You should head back home. Lydia's here anyway."

"Alright. Do you need anything else before I go?"

"No, just tell Coach I'll see if there's a way I can play, alright?"

"Sure thing, Jackson." She said as she walked away from him and texted her dad to come and get her. While she waited, she sent another text to Stilinski who was asking after Whittemore. Apparently, Scott was feeling like shit about practice today. _Well good then, he should feel like shit! Maiming a teammate!_ She went back to discussing Erica's future piercing. Of bloody course the blonde wanted Billie to go with her as well! Nevermind that she was scared of needles. She even pulled the 'BFF' card on her. By the time Coach Finstock pulled up in the parking lot, Billie had to clear some time for her friend the coming Sunday. It would be more painful for Billie than for Erica!

* * *

Thank God she liked chemistry, because Mr Harris knocked all the fun right out of it! Today's class wasn't even over yet and she already had filled 3 sheets of notes on both sides. You could see desperation written plainly on the faces all around, from Allison's creased forehead to Scott's confused look or to Stiles, gnawing at his pencil like a beaver. Isaac tried to listen to the lecture, looking ahead intently, but Billie knew he would need her notes to copy after school anyway.

The bell rang and a collective sigh of relief was heard throughout the classroom as the students grabbed their bags and made their escape. Isaac noticed Billie was still seated and gave her a questioning look, but she just shooed him away before heading up to the teacher's desk, a ball of dread in her stomach. Harris was the most hated teacher in the school, and for a good reason. He notably despised the student body and enjoyed making them suffer as much as humanly possible in petty ways. He was putting away some of his papers and only then did he see the teenager in front of him. She tried her best to look nervous - which she was - and tiny and inoffensive - which was easy in her oversized knit sweater and ballerinas.

"Miss Finstock, how may I help you?'

He didn't look too frustrated yet, which was good for her - then again, it was only Friday morning.

'Well sir, I'm not sure I get the concept of sublimation correctly and I was wondering if maybe ..."

"I'm sorry Miss Finstock, but I can't be expected to give private lessons to every student who has trouble grasping a minor concept ..."

She interrupted him.

"Actually Mr Harris, sorry to cut you off, but I was wondering if there was another manual you would recommend, or some other exercice I could do. Maybe in another chapter ..."

He looked at her for a moment, almost struck speechless. The girl was asking for extra work. In all his career - which had gone on much too long for his own patience - that had never happened before.

"Miss Finstock are you by any chance trying to get on my good side?"

She put up a confused frown, trying not to sweat like a fat guy in a sauna under the man's scrutiny.

"Honestly if I was trying to butter you up, sir, I'd save myself the trouble of extra homework and just bring you brownies. I'm not asking you this just for kicks. You see, I'm helping a friend who's having trouble in chemistry and I'd hate to see him fail because I couldn't explain a concept clearly to him. I'd see this as a personnal failure on my side and I really don't like to fail."

He chuckled at her decidedly stubborn tone.

"That's a very nice thing you're doing Miss Finstock, but I advise you to keep a certain distance. You can't be responsible for some other student's helplessness."

"I'll keep that in mind sir."

He wrote something on a pink Post-It and handed it to her.

"In the meantime, here's a book you can check out in the library that should help you explain sublimation to ... let me guess ... Mr Lahey? Is he your pet project?"

She nodded gravelly, taking the pink paper and sticking it to her agenda.

"I'm glad he's making an effort, but make sure he does make an effort. I don't want you to do all the work for him. Keep up the good work, Miss Finstock, you're on the right path for a stellar grade."

She smiled and went on her way. She was well on her way to getting on the teacher's good side, score!

* * *

"What do you mean you can't play?"

Billie was following her dad and McCall in the Coach's office, and hadn't been able to wait until they were all inside to ask. Scott just shook his scruffy head and repeated himself word for word, as if that was clarifying anything.

"I can't play the game tomorrow night."

"You can't _wait_ to play the game tomorrow night." Coach tried to insist.

"Coach I can't _play the game_ tomorrow night." This was getting ridiculous, he could at least explain himself!

"I'm not following." Coach said, to which Billie insisted "Explain yourself, McCall. Try using more words too."

"I'm ... having some personnal issues." Scott's idea of an explanation was infuriatingly vague.

"Is it a girl?" Coach almost laughed.

"No."

"Is it a guy?" Billie asked, a look of curiosity etched on her face. Coach followed up immediately. "You know, our goalie Danny is gay." He and Billie nodded at each other, their movement perfectly mirrored by the other.

"Yeah ... I know Coach, but that's not it ..."

"You don't think Danny's a ... good looking guy?" Finstock Jr had a conspiratorial look on her face right now. Scott seemed even more uncomfortable than before.

"I-I think he's good looking I but ... I like girls! And that's not it anyway! I-I ..."

"Is it drugs, are you doing meth? Because I had a brother that was addicted to meth. You should have seen what it did to his teeth, they were all cracked and ... rotted away. It was disgusting!"

"My God, what happened to him?" Scott asked, looking concerned.

"He got veneers! Is that ... what this is about? Are you afraid of getting hurt McCall?"

"No ..." He said in a quiet voice, still trying to get his point across. "I"m having some issues ... dealing with aggression."

"Well, here's the good news. That's why you play Lacrosse! Problem solved." Billie said cheekily, arms crossed. Seriously, what was wrong with the boy? He had wanted nothing more than this and he was having stage fright now?

"Coach I can't play the game tomorrow night!" Scott insisted again with more force.

"Listen McCall, part of _playing_ first line is taking on the responsibility of _being_ first line. If you can't shoulder that responsibility then you're back on the bench until you're ready."

Scott's face fell as he understood the implications of Coach Finctock's speech.

"If I don't play the game, you're taking me off first line?"

Billie's heart ached for her friend. He looked like a sad, kicked puppy. No doubt he had picked up this look at work at the vet's office. She looked at him with an encouraging smile and put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"McCall. Play the game. You made first line, own it."

As soon as he was out of the office, Coach looked at his daughter and sighed.

"By the way, how is Uncle Patrick? Haven't heard from him since your birthday ..."

"He's good, he facebooked me a few weeks ago about Gram's Thanksgiving party ... I can't believe this kid. As if he could ditch the team for 'personnal issues'. Ridiculous!"

"Yeah ... I think it's Jackson's injury that's getting to him. He looked really shaken up after it happened. I think he blames himself."

Her dad sat down in his chair and looked at her for a moment. He had that piercing look he usually kept for practice, when he was trying to pick apart a player's movements and mistakes.

"I like how you think, Peanut. You're ... friendly with McCall, right?"

"I guess I am, yeah. Why?"

"Nothing. I was just ... thinking." She squirmed on her seat. His appraising look wasn't a comforting sight.

"About ... " She didn't like where this was going one bit.

"Well, you see ... You've got a special status, as a student here. You can be on good terms with the other players and they can talk to you more freely than they can with me, as a teacher, an authority figure. I'm thinking it might be a good idea if you kept an eye on McCall. Especially since you guys are already friends, it shouldn't be so hard ..."

Billie was struck silent. Her dad was enrolling her to spy on her friends for the team? What the Hell?

" ... And you could tell me if those 'personnal issues'," he added with air-quotes and an eye-roll, "are really a good reason to bench him or not! And he'd be _your_ pony of course, you found him, you get the credit for him. Especially if you manage to keep him in fighting shape. Think you can do that for your old pops?"

And how was she supposed to say no to that?

* * *

She was running late. _Dammit, dammit-dammit-dammit! That'll teach you to go on a spontaneous run during free period._ Running around the corner to her street, Billie sprinted down to her home and pulled her tank top off as she got to the door. She pulled her keys out of her sports bra and almost rammed the door with her shoulder. Kicking off her running shoes, she looked at the large clock in the foyer. 3:32. He should be there in less than 20 minutes. Billie took the stairs two at a time and almost fell on her bed trying to take off her running pants while walking. _Nice impression of Stilinski, girl. Get a grip, you're studying with a friend, not hosting a dinner for the Queen of England!_ Billie took a deep breath and jumped in and out of the shower in a record 3 minutes.15 minutes to go. She dried her skin and headed downstairs, with a towel around herself, to try and clean up the place.

Bobby and Billie Finstock pretty much never ate at the table. They either ate at the counter in the kitchen, on the couch or, in Billie's case, in her bedroom. And that wasn't counting every time they just grabbed something in the fridge on their way out of the house. She swooped around the place, picking up all the dirty dishes and dumping them unceremoniously in the dishwasher. The kitchen table was obviously littered with school papers being graded, bills and other paperwork. She took it all in her arms and put it down in a heap at its rightful place, on her dad's work desk. The only things she left there were her own manuals and notebooks, ready for her study session.

Sniffing loudly, she wrinkled her nose. They'd had fish last night and the whole place smelled like low tide. She pulled the foot spray she used for her gym shoes and tried to do some damage control before heading to the bathroom and tossing her dirty clothes in the laundry basket. Closing both bedroom doors on her way back downstairs, Billie went back in the kitchen to put a popcorn bag in the microwave. They could at least munch on that, and Lahey, being an annoyingly tall teenage boy, would most certainly be perpetually hungry. The oven clock read 3:44. She had 5 minutes left, tops.

Billie dashed to her bedroom and yanked her wardrobe doors open, pulling underwear out of her drawer without looking. She then put on a loose fitting, V-neck T-shirt and a pair of ripped jeans. The doorbell rang and she headed downstairs, buttoning up her pants.

Lahey was at the door, in faded jeans and a charcoal hoodie. It was his first visit at Billie's house and he was very obviously nervous to be there. As tall and imposing as he really was, Billie thought he looked tiny and shy. Head down, shoulders hunched, hands shoved in his pockets. He was fidgeting too, nothing like spazz-tastic Stilinski, but still.

"Hey Math Geek, ready to work?"

He nodded, looking grim.

"Uhh yeah, sure."

She bit back a smile, the poor boy was beyond uncomfortable. _Erica would be jealous if she saw him squirm like that!_ A small part of her brain wondered why he was so uptight, but the rest of her led him to the - now decent looking - kitchen.

"Alright, we can get to work here, and there's some popcorn if you wanna munch on something."

"Uhh cool. Hey, is your dad home?"

 _So that was it!_

"Nope, he's working on some pop-quiz for the Seniors Econ class. He won't be here until 6. We won't get interrupted."

Isaac let out a relieved breath. He had been dreading meeting Coach Finstock on his own turf outside of school hours.

"O-okay. Cool. So, we should get started. Let's see if you're as hopeless as I think you are ..."

Picking up his backpack, he got his books out and flipped to the homework page. Billie pulled her own and they sat quietly at the table, trying to get through their Algebra homework. The first 20 minutes were mostly spent quietly, both of them hard at work. Billie sat across the table from Isaac, her books spread out, her head tilted to the side and her tongue between heer teeth as she wrote her equations.

Isaac looked up once, after finishing a particularly hard probelm. He wanted to ask Billie if she needed any help, but when his eyes left the paper his heart almost stopped, right then and there. With the way her head was tilted to the side, her hair bunched up on her head in a messy bun, he had an unencumbered, plunging view down her V-neck. He could see down her bra, which was a nice navy blue by the way, and surprisingly lace-y. He hadn't pegged Billie as the 'lace underwear' kind of girl. He would never have pegged her as any specific kind of girl anyway. He had never noticed before how much of a rack she had either. But now that it was proudly on display at a foot's distance - practically at arm's reach - he definetly noticed! Blushing like a ripe tomato, he took off his hoodie and mentally scolded himself. _That's Billie 'Manlier-Than-You' Finstock, come on!_

Billie's attention snapped to him when she saw him taking off his sweater. His white T-shirt clung to him and showed off his arms, which had already gotten larger and more muscled than she expected. _Training was doing him some good ..._

"Math getting you all hot and bothered Lahey?"

His head snapped up at that, and he looked at her for a second, eyes wide with panic. He suddenly looked like a deer in the headlights. She wanted to laugh so much, but kept it in.

"W-what? No, of course not! I .. I'm just ..."

Isaac blushed. _Lahey blushing?_

"Geez Louise, calm down. You look like you're about to have an attack of something!"

He bent down his head and let out a long-suffering sigh.

"I'm stuck on something... D'you wanna take a break?"

She quietly nodded, standing up, and he was grateful for it. Taking a break would let him gather his wits. Being alone with a girl, in her own home, was most definetly getting to his frayed nerves!

"So," she said, picking up some popcorn, "how was your day so far?"

He shrugged.

"Same old same old, school and stuff ..."

"Are you working the graveyard shift at the graveyard tonight?"

That wasalready a more normal interaction for the two of them. He stifled a laugh at her bad joke.

"Nope, I'm off duty. The dead will have to wait for me to pass Chemistry."

He dug into the bowl with one of his large hands and pulled it back full. He was trying to avoid any sensitive subject. They were both propped against the counter, munching silently. This close, he could smell something on her. Her perfume, deodorant, shampoo or whatever it was. It smelled like blackberries, or cupcakes, or ... cinnamon? Something sweet, but light. The smell was not overwhelming, like so many of the other girls' perfumes at school, but fresh and a bit cirtucy too. He guessed it wasn't some celebrity fragrance. It was nice, cute. It suited her. _Wait what!? Sweet, nice and cute suited Billie 'Drill Sergent' Finstock?! What was wrong with him today?_

"And how are you liking the whole Lacrosse experience so far?"

Her voice brought him back to her face, a good 8 inches below his, really. He gave another non-commital shrug.

"It's okay, I haven't broken anything yet. The Assistant Coach is a pain in the ass though ..."

She threw a popcorn at him and he caught it in his mouth expertly. He'd done that bit with his brother Cam for years, it was almost instinctive by now. She laughed out loud, seemingly impressed by his prowess. He relaxed noticeably after that. Billie noticed how he was back to his usual - slightly awkward but not too much - endearing self. Before they got back to work, Billie got a text from her dad asking her to thaw out something for dinner as he would be starved tonight. She pulled out a large Tupperware of spaghetti sauce from the freezer and dumped it in the sink.

"Hey Isaac, you think you could help me out with this problem? I can't get it right."

They were back at work and Isaac was making a conscious effort not to look at Billie's Grand Canyon right in front of him. He got up and walked over to her side of the table, sliding her notebook to him.

"Let me take a look at your equations ..."

Her writing was square and clear and easy to read, compared to his own slanted, compressed writing. He knew he had a good calligraphy, at least compared to other boys in school, but hers was so damn like her dad's, if she wrote in red ink he'd have thought Coach had written that. He scanned the page, bent over next to her, a hand on the back of her chair. Now he could defnetly smell something sweet coming off her. He glanced at her surreptitiously and only managed to notice that her black hair looked really shiny and soft right next to him. _Focus dammit!_ He pointed to one of the variables.

"There's your problem, you forgot to balance these out after dividing by 6."

"I did?"

"Yeah. You just need to double-check your steps and you'll be fine. Your reasoning is good."

She turned to him and smiled.

"Thanks Math Geek, you're a life saver!"

He gulped loudly and quickly went back to his seat with a vague hand gesture that was supposed to mean 'Don't mention it'. He had known his eyes were lingering on her lips and neck for an instant and wanted to slap himself. He was better off with a piece of large furniture between them.

* * *

Coach Finstock came back home around 5:30, dropping his briefcase and bag on the floor at the entrance as if they had been filled with bowling balls.

"Peanut, I'm home! Thank God ... "

Her voice wafted in from the kitchen.

"Hey Dad! We've got a visitor, come and say hi!"

"A visitor? Who in their right mind would come over here?"

Were his parents supposed to come and visit? He suddenly noticed how clean the house was. It smelled good too, like eucalyptus or some other fresh herb. Coach walked in the kitchen and saw Lahey sitting at the kitchen table, with a slightly terrified look on his face. If he hadn't been shocked to see a boy with his daughter, unsupervised, in his home, he would have laughed out loud at said boy's almost pertified, 'oh-god-I'm-dead' face.

"Isaac's helping me out with Algebra. We just finished our homework for the week. Can you believe I'm ahead of time for an Algebra assignment?"

She smiled proudly and he came to pat her shoulder gently.

"That's wonderful, Peanut. Any ideas for dinner?"

"I thawed some of Gram's spaghetti sauce. We just need some pasta."

"That I can do," said Bobby with a happy smile. "Isaac, you're staying for dinner, right?"

The poor boy stuttered furiously, taken aback.

"Well, um ... I sh-should be getting back ... home ..."

"Nonsense, just call your dad and tell him your Coach won't take no for an answer."

Billie nodded and Isaac relented. He went to the living room to make the call, dreading his father's reaction. His call went straight to voicemail and as soon as he had left his message, he hung up and exhaled in relief.

Isaac Lahey was stunned to realize how quiet and relaxed Coach was when he wasn't on the field. No yelling, no whistle, no arguing. He and Billie were so ... nice together. Coach's voice was quieter, Billie's wasn't as high-strung and both were obviously very affectionate, bordering on touchy-feely. A pat on the shoulder, a peck on the side of the head, hair ruffling, it was almost like watching the Gilmore Girls, with a hairier - and male - version of the mother.

The spaghetti sauce was Billie's grandmother's recipe. Turns out the old lady sent her son frozen sauces because Coach couldn't get enough of it and no one knew how to make it as good as she did. Isaac helped clean up the table and the teens sat on either side of Coach Finstock. The first bites were taken in silence, the sauce really was great, he had to admit.

"So Isaac, I checked your results after practice yesterday. They're really not bad for a new kid on the team, seriously. Your aim is good, you pass a lot, which is also a serious necessity on this team. The egos I have to work with! And I'm not worried about your checks, you'll be slaying them, I'm sure!"

"Thanks Coach" Isaac said, blushing at the praise.

"It's your cardio I'm worried about. You can be quick on your feet, but you can't keep up for long. So. I'm enrolling you in the track team , which I coach as well, until you can be brought up to speed. Don't worry I'll let their team captain know your a special case.''

This was news! He was going to be insanely busy soon.

"Oh. When do they train?"

He needed to get a schedule or something ...

"We do a short run on Mondays and Thursdays and a long run on Saturdays. We meet up at 7:30."

"In the morning?! Wait, you're on the team too?"

"Yeah it's the best time to run ..." she had begun to asnwer him, but was interrupted by her dad's proud boasting.

"Are you kidding, Lahey? She's the fastest on the team, a real bullet!"

Billie smiled sheepishly and it was her turn to suddenly blush. Her dad was always telling her how great she was, but to hear him tell her friend about it ... Well that was a horse of a different color!

* * *

The night of the game, the lockers were alive with the noise of the players getting ready, banging locker doors, chattering and stretching. There was a small cluster around Whittemore, of course. _Bloody idiot, acting like a martyr!_ Billie thought it was ridiculous and reckless to let him play so soon after his injury, but Coach had refused to hear her opinion when his star player had come back from the hospital after a cortisone shot, saying he was fit to play. He was hogging the other players' attention, like he always did. Not too far, Scott and Stiles were getting ready and talking loudly, as they always did. Billie chuckled. _Nothing ever changes in the locker room dynamics!_ She went over to see if her 'new pony' was feeling okay. She caught him and Stiles arguing.

"You gonna try to convince me not to play?"

"I just hope you know what you're doing." _Stilinski, don't ruin this for him!_

"If I don't play, I lose first line _and_ Allison." Wow, that didn't sound good, it was almost as if Scott was just playing because he was afraid ...

"Allison's not going anywhere! And it's one game that you really don't need to play ..."

"I wanna play! I wanna be on the team, I wanna go out with Allison. I want a semi-freaking-normal life! D'you get that?" Scott snapped at his best friend. Maybe she should talk to him, he didn't sound like himself at all right now.

Stiles hung his head and nodded.

"I get it ..."

Billie got to them and sat between both boys.

"Hey guys! Scott, can I talk to you?"

"Sure Billie, what's up?"

She hesitated, making sure to pick her words correctly.

"Look, I just wanted to make sure you were okay to play. You had your reasons to want out of this game and I don't want you to push yourself just because my da - Coach! because Coach says so, okay?"

"I'm fine, Billie ..."

"You sure? Because I can handle Ghengis Coach over there, no biggie. If you really need to sit this one out, I can take care of it. Listen, and - Stiles, that goes for you too. If you guys ever want to talk, or you've got some issues, and you don't feel okay going to him, you can totally talk to me. We're friends. That's what I'm here for."

Scott smiled at her, a happy, lopsided grin that was definetly more him.

"Thanks Billie, I appreciate it."

"Yeah, you're a bro, Finstock."

Stiles gave her a fist bump as she stood up and left them to get ready. Even though she wasn't next to them anymore, Billie could still hear Stiles' voice wafting up to her as she took down the lineup.

"Just try not to worry too much when you're out there, okay?'' _Sound advice for once, good job Stiles._ ''Or get too angry ..."

"I got it." Scott was back to his nervous muttering.

"... Or stressed ... Don't think about Allison being in the stands. Or that her father's trying to kill you.'' _Okay Stiles, don't overdo it, man ..._

''Or that Derek's trying to kill you. Or the girl _he_ killed. Or that you might kill someone, if a hunter doesn't kill _you_ first! I'll stop now.'' He stopped his rambling when Scott shot him a murderous glare. ''Good luck ...''

What the hell?! This whole conversation was wayyy too crazy to make any sense whatsoever! The part where Allison's dad might want to kill Scott might make sense, if it was figuratively, like any overprotective dad - Billie could write a book about that easily enough. The mention of a 'hunter' rang a tiny bell in her mind. Didn't she hear them talk about Mr Argent being a hunter of some sort? But then this whole thing about a guy named Derek - maybe the tall, brooding guy from the party, his name was Derek - who might have killed a girl, and Scott potentially killing someone tonight? That was downright insane! Shaking her head, Billie went back to her dad's office, trying to get back in the game spirit.

* * *

Billie was finishing up the line up sheet when she saw her dad sitting down next to Whittemore to ask about his shoulder. She bit back a bark of laughter at her dad's clumsy attempt to sound tough. It was obvious on his face that he was very concerned about his player's well-being but he would never admit it. She sat on the bench next to a dreadfully nervous Stilinski who was gnawing at his gloves while Scott was making his way towards them, until Lydia Martin of all people stopped him in his track to talk to him. _Seems he'll be getting another pep talk before the game_. The players were putting on their last pads, getting in position, the game was about to start. The bleachers were full of people cheering loudly already, there was an electrified atmosphere all around. Sheriff Stilinski came down from his spot in the bleachers and crouched down near his son.

"Hey kid. Hey Billie."

She smiled. She had always had a soft spot for Mr Stilinski. He had always been a nice man and he'd had such a hard time taking care of Stiles when Mrs Stilinski had gotten sick. Billie had spent a lot of time with the boys back then, around the time when Scott's dad had fallen off the face of the earth and Stiles' mom had died. They were 3 lost puppies with newly single parents at the time, getting babysitted all together often, and had gotten much closer because of that.

"Hey Mr S. Glad you could make it tonight!"

"Thanks Billie. So d'you two think we'll see any action tonight?"

Stiles bobbed his head, looking like he was about to be sick.

"Action? Maybe ..."

The first whistle resounded on the field and the players faced off. Beacon Hills got the ball and McCall was free, but Whittemore completely ignored him. In fact, all of the players were ignoring him. It was almost as if the shaggy-haired boy was invisible. Billie shook her head and muttered under her breath. It could be nothing more than a little in-team hazing, the new kid on first line getting a little tough love from his teammates. She shouldn't worry about it right away. Or maybe she should?

Just as she was trying to calm herself down, Billie saw Jackass Whittemore tackling McCall to get to the ball first. _That dick! You're on the same team, knucklehead!_ Stilinski looked over at her, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead and that was when she realised she'd been letting out a string of creative curses under her breath for the last minute. The crowd was still 'Ooohh'-ing at Scott's debacle. Billie shot a look at Coach.

"I'm guessing someone doesn't like the new pony, Coach. Maybe you should ..."

But he never heard her, because his favorite jock had just scored a goal. The crowd cheered loudly and you could hear Coach's loud booming voice on top of the racket.

"That's it Jackson! Just fire it up! Fire it up!"

Whittemore was smiling widely,getting congratulated by the oher guys and, if it hadn't been for the low blow he'd done to Scott, he might have seemed like any normal, happy teenager. But the self-satisfied smirk came back on quickly and he looked once again like the spoiled, Porshe-driving brat he was. Billie and Stiles shared a disgruntled look. This game was already getting painful to watch and it had only been 10 minutes. Stiles looked behing him and rolled his eyes unhappily, which made Billie look herself. She saw Lydia Martin and new girl Allison Argent holding up a 'WE LUV U JACKSON' sign in the air. Finstock Jr rolled her eyes as well and spit on the ground in disgust. _As if the Jackass needed any more of an ego boost._ Stiles sighed, looking towards Scott.

"Brutal ..."

"That sign? Downright gag-worthy if you ask me!"

"Uhh yeah, definitely. That's what ... I was ..."

"So are McCall and the new girl something already? I'd hate to have covered his ass at the party for nothing ..."

"You ...? Uhh yeah, I guess ... I mean I think so. They haven't had a real date yet so ... I don't know."

Would you look at that, Stilinski doesn't know something about McCall's personnal life? I'll alert the media!"

Stiles looked nowhere near that conversation as he locked eyes with an enraged Scott across the field.

"Would you just ... Oh this is not gonna be good!'

"What's not gonna be good?"

Billie searched the field for whatever might have caused Stiles to say that, but she only could see McCall standing there, outside of the circle of Beacon Hills players strategizing for the next play. Jackson was apparently arguing with Danny, which was strange in itself, seeing as they were best friends and worked really well on the team together. Otherwise, things were looking pretty normal, they were even looking good. They had scored the first point and no one had gotten hurt.

The fourth perdiod was ending, and the Cyclones were losing 3 to 5. Scott had been ignored by his teammates all along and Billie was fuming on the bench next to Stiles. She would have words with Jackson after the game, that was a given. She mentally took note of all the expletives she could muster up to describe the boy's behavior as colorfully as possible. He would be crying in the showers before she was done with him.

McCall was doing the next faceoff. The ref whistled and Scott managed to get his hands on the ball. He jumped over another player to keep it and started running to the goal, dodging the white-clad opponents with ease. Nothing could stop him. The crowd was cheering him on, everybody standing up as he came up to the goalie and scored in one fluid motion. Billie jumped up and hollered, ecstatic, and kept high-fiving Stiles who had jumped on top of the bench, screaming and gesticulating wildly. Scott got congratulated by hid team on the field and Coach kept yelling to 'pass to McCall!'up and down the bench. The next faceoff was won by the other team, but the player with the ball suddenly gave it to Scott, for no apparent reason.

"Did the opposing team just deliberately pass us the ball?"

Coach was sitting next to Billie and Stilinski, who was again torturing his glove. She'd have to get him a chew toy for the next game or else his equipment wouldn't last the whole season.

"Yes I believe so Coach."

"I guess they know what's best for them ... "

Coach raised his hand over Stilinski's head and high-fived Billie, a crazed smile on his face. The same insane grin was plastered on his daughter's face as well. They looked like a matching set of psychos at the moment.

McCall made his way again to the goal at top speed again and shot straight _through_ the goalie's mesh into the were now tied 5 to 5 in the last minute of gameplay. The spectators were going wild for #11, the new star player. Billie had Stiles' head in the crook of her elbow as she and her benchwarmer friend were still letting out rip-roaring cheers while Coach was arguing with the referee about the validity of the goal. There was nothing to argue over, really, since the ball was in the net for all to see.

The last faceoff was Jackson's and, astoundingly, he passed to McCall of his own volition. Scott was headed for the goal again, but his moves were getting a bit erratic. Stiles stood up, muttering rapidly, with a look of increasing panic on his face.

"No-no-no Scott, no ..."

The seconds were ticking by on the clock and Billie was getting nervous too. _Why wasn't he shooting the ball?_ But suddenly, just before the time was up, he took his arm back, shot and scored. They'd won. Stiles screamed at the top of his lungs and hugged Billie, lifting her feet above the grass.

"Yes! Yeah ha ha ha! Oh my god!"

"We won, dude we won we won we won!"

Scott was in the middle of the field, struck still as the crowd emptied from the bleachers to celebrate on the grass with the players. He seemed frozen in place, until suddenly he wasn't. The last Billie saw of him was his #11 jersey retreating rapidly towards the locker rooms. She tapped on her dad's shoulder while he was still hugging every single one of his players in celebration.

"Hey Peanut! We won, we're still the reigning champs!"

"Yeah that's awesome! Listen, the star palyer just ran away to hide in the locker rooms, I'll go see if he's okay. See you at home later?"

"Ok Sweetie, no problem. But if you go out to party with the others, call me first, okay?"

"Promise!"

She then took off back towards the school at a slow jog, high-fiving people on the way and smiling proudly at every loud cheer she heard. She was feeling no small amount of school pride right now. _Go Cyclones!_

As she got to the locker rooms, she could hear voices coming out from there.

"To be totally honest you ... make me kinda nervous."

She recognized Scott's low tones easily.

"I do?"

Was that Allison? _Ohh this might be good, crunchy gossip material!_ Billie tiptoed into the room quietly, an evil grin on her face. She must have looked like a bad cartoon spy once again but she couldn't care less at the moment.

"Yeah kinda like ... really nervous."

A breathy, girl laugh.

"I just ... wanna make sure I get my second chance."

"You already have it. I'm just waiting for you to take it."

Billie had them on visual now. They were standing in the middle of the shower room.

"Well, maybe I need to learn to ... take more chances ..."

"Maybe you do."

Scott was getting closer and closer to Allison ... He was tilting his head down and ... They kissed! THEY KISSED ! Billie was over the moon. She was always fond of Scott, and the boy deserved a few good things coming his way. Considering he was now the new team star and had just made an impressive move with the new girl, she couldn't be happier for her friend. Billie saw Stiles coming in and stopping right in his tracks at the sight of his best friend getting some much deserved action. The buzzcut boy was turning around when he saw her, crouched behind a row of lockers, watching with a crazy joyful expression. She lifted two thumps up and he smiled at her, his eyebrows raising as he saw Scott and Allison still locking lips intently. Now Stiles and Billie were crouched behind the same row, spying on their friend. The two lovebirds ended their kiss after a while.

"Um ... I gotta get back to my dad."

They kissed again and Allison left the locker room, but not without waving at them and blushing.

"Stiles. Billie."

"Bye Allison."

Stilinski barely managed to get a sound out and Billie just giggled at the face he was making, half 'trying to act cool and aloof' and half 'embarrassed to the brink of death'. Scott came up to thenright after that, with a ridiculously large grin on his face.

"I kissed her."

"We saw."

"She kissed me."

"Saw that too ... It's pretty good, huh?"

Seeing as Scott was definetly okay, and he probably was going to gush out about the kiss in less than ten seconds, Billie decided to bid the boys farewell.

"You can be proud of yourself Scotty. You did great tonight. On _and off_ the field. You take care of him, Stiles, he's gonna be floating on a pink cloud for the next 36 hours at least. I'll see you both at practice, alright?"

They both nodded as she walked out of the locker room, still wearing a grin so wide the Cheschire Cat would be jealous of.

* * *

 **A/N: There you have it, the whole of episode 2 in one shot! Hallelujah!**

 **I had it written almost completely last week, but my computer killed it and I had to rewrite most of this chapter between shifts. I'll try to keep updating with one full episode at a time, to keep the action moving at a faster pace.** **Things are getting more interesting already. You can see Finstock Jr getting embroiled in this very easily now * _rubs hands with a wicked grin*_**

 **Feel free to review, I hope you've enjoyed it so far.** ** _Good night to you all!_**


	6. Blood and Bruises

**A/N: Hello everyone!**

 **After that very long chapter, I decided I would try to make it an episode a chapter. It's proving difficult to do, especially lately, being caught up in crazy adult life things, an operation and moving, but I will manage it!**

 **And now, without further ado ...**

''Dude, you have to come with me, you promised!''

Erica was - very literally - pulling Billie's arm towards the tattoo parlor. She had promised to go with Erica, that much was true, but her nerves were betraying her at the last moment. Her feet were stuck in place and her legs were nearly buckling.

''I wish I could Rickie, really I do ... bu-but I can't ...''

''Relax, drama-queen! It's not even gonna be _you_ getting a piercing, it's me. I should be the one scared and nervous, but do you see me shaking and crying? No. That's right, because I'm a big girl, Billie Finstock! And you're such a cry-baby!''

Erica was still smiling while she tried to bruise her best friend's ego just enough to spur her to move along, but it was getting old. Billie had to get over her fear of needles once and for all!

''Come on, Billie, you won't even see the needle! They use a punch machine, just like for regular earring holes. You got your ears pierced too, how did you manage that, huh?''

With an exasperated sigh, Billie looked at her friend.

''My mother had them pierced when I was one year old. I didn't exactly have a say in it ...''

Erica rolled her brown eyes and just stared her friend down.

''You are coming with me, you are going to sit with me, hold my hand and you're buying me a latte afterwards. End of story.''

Billie shut her eyes for a moment, taking a few slow, deep breaths, and moved forward, eyes still shut tight.

''Fiiiiiine, but you're not getting a 'pumpkin spice' anything, White Girl. Just a plain, normal latte. I'm not made of money.''

Erica smiled at her friend's antics and finally pulled her towards the tattoo parlor, where a big bearded guy was waiting for them.

He took them to his station, sat Erica down and checked her signed authorization form. While he was preparing his supplies, Billie bowed down to speak in Erica's ear.

''I still can't believe you dad let you do this ...''

''He doesn't really care ...''

''Very unusual for an insurance guy. I'd think he'd be scared stiff just reading the mandatory list of possible risks ...''

''No I mean he doesn't care what I ask him to sign. He just signs it, no questions asked.''

''Oh.''

''Alright, Miss Reyes.''

The man was looking at the girls, a large - so, so large! - needle in his hand. Billie's eyes bulged out and she quietly gasped. Apparently they weren't using the good ol' punch machine for a helix piercing. He placed the harpoon *ahem!* the needle on the sanitized table and began marking Erica's ear, but Billie's eyes were still glued on the shiny metal needle. She was breathing slowly, trying to stay focused and calm. Erica was lying down, head turned facing her friend. She took Billie's hand and squeezed. Billie was trying to smile at her, trying to be the reassuring best friend, but her face looked contorted in a strange half-smile that looked like the Joker having gas. She was sweating through her San Jose Sharks T-shirt. The room was stuffy and yet she could feel goosebumps rising on her bare arms. Billie could hear the big tattooed man saying something but had no idea what it was because there was a weird, static-like sound in her ears. Billie kept her eyes averted from Erica, avoiding the sight of the needle at all cost. She looked at the ceiling. She blinked. She felt a tug at her arm. Erica must be scared or in pain. She blinked again.

The ceiling was suddenly farther from her than before, and at a different angle. Erica and the tattoo guy were hovering over her, their voices wafting down to her in a strange echo, like from the other side of a tunnel. It took Billie a few slow blinks to finally understand that she was on the ground, that she had fallen down, that she had fainted.

''Wha ... ?''

"You fainted." _Thank you for stating the obvious, Erica._

"Are you alright, kid?" The big guy took her arm and helped pull her up. He sat her down in a sofa by the register and brought her an ice pack and a glass of water. Erica paid her piercing and sat down next to her pale friend, who then noticed the delicate jewel in Erica's cartilage, the flesh around it visibly still tender.

"You did it?"

"It was already almost done by the time you collapsed. He told me not to move or he'd have to re-do it afterwards. So, yeah ... It's done! What do you think?"

Billie smiled, a hint of color returning to her cheeks.

"It suits you. You look badass!"

"Thanks Billie. So I guess I'll be the one treating you to a latte now? Drama queen!"

The next morning Billie came out of her room in a pair of skinny jeans and army boots. Her father stopped her on the way to the door, inspecting the nasty bruise that had blossomed on the right side of his little peanut's forehead last night. She had hit the counter harder than she'd thought. She winced.

''Does it hurt Peanut?''

''Not really, I just won't be doing any headbanging soon. There go my weekend plans!''

She was smiling, but her dad still had a concerned look on his face.

''Okay, well if you feel any pain, or if you just need to rest for a bit, come and see me, good?''

''Okay.''

Billie was trying to avoid moving her head too fast, afraid to give herself a headache. Both Finstocks got in Coach's car and headed to school.

 _Bobby Finstock had been livid when his daughter had come home from a 'shopping afternoon' with an ice pack against her head. His panic level jumped up when she told him that she had fainted and hit her head. The panic receded a bit to let exasperation take its place when he heard that she had been at a tattoo parlor when she fainted. Billie managed to tell him the whole story and diffuse the situation before he exploded, but the effort had tired her and her face had gone pale and drawn. Bobby immediately sat her down on the sofa and brought her a glass of water and a wet towel to put on her neck. He sat down next to his kid and pulled her legs up on the sofa, following the first-aid training rules like the boy-scout he used to be._

 _''Well there's one thing you'll never have to worry about ...''_

 _Bobby looked at her, curious. Billie was smirking._

 _''You'll never have to worry about me sneaking around you to get a tattoo or a piercing. If I do you'll be picking me up at the ER, probably.''_

 _Bobby Finstock looked at his progeny, lying on the couch with a hand holding her ice pack and a goofy grin, as she suddenly burst out laughing uncontrollably at the ridiculous situation. Soon Bobby joined in and the two of them wouldn't stop joking about the matter for the rest of the evening._

The school parking lot was packed with police cars when they got there. Coach's eyes bulged out at the activity around them. This seemed serious. Billie stayed in the car while her dad went to talk with one of the deputies. He came back and headed towards the other end of the parking lot, away from all the yellow tape and police lights. Billie looked at her dad expectantly.

''So what did they say?''

Bobby Finstock took a deep breath before answering.

''Apparently there was ... someone vandalized one of the buses last night.''

''Oh, that's it? My gosh, with the amount of uniforms there you'd have thought there'd be a murder or something!''

''They found blood - lots of it - in the bus. They don't know if it's animal or human yet but ...''

''Oh.''

''Yeah ...''

They both fell silent. Bobby Finstock headed for his office, sparing one last worried glance at his daughter as she went to her locker.

Billie was getting her books out when a large shadow fell over her. She looked up, slowly, and saw Lahey lounging on the row of locker doors, in his trademark old charcoal hoodie. _If he wore any more grey, he'd be able to camouflage himself between tombstones ..._

''Hey Finstock, what's up?''

She turned to look at him straight and saw his eyes enlarge in surprise, glued to her forehead. He lost any composure he had before and hissed a breath.

''Shit Billie what happened to you?''

She closed her locker and started walking towards their Math class. Isaac fell into step next to her.

''Nothing, just a stupid idea signed Erica Carmen Reyes!''

''What did she do, hit you on the head with a shovel?''

''Geez Lahey, does it look that bad?''

''No! It's just ... Well, your head's changed shape a little, you know ... Yeah it's scary.''

Billie rolled her eyes in annoyance at her friend and quickened her steps.

''Thanks for the moral support Lahey, I feel sooo much better now!''

''Sorry Finstock, it's really not that bad, it's just really weird seeing you with a purple lump on your head. Does it hurt?''

''Yeah, pretty bad actually. I've been on the verge of a migraine for, like, 24 hours now, I can't move my head too fast or the room spins, and any loud noise or strong light makes me cringe. I'm so glad it's a rainy day today!''

Isaac only nodded thoughtfully.

''It sucks! I swear, Erica owes me sooo much more than just a freaking latte ...''

They reached their desks in the math classroom and sat down, pulling out their books.

''Okay but, come on tell me, what really happened to you?''

''It's kind of embarrassing ...''

''I won't laugh, promise.''

''Okay so, Rickie got a new piercing and she wanted her bestie there to hold her hand or something ... I told her I was scared of needles but she insisted, so I went along with her. The guy pulled out a huuuge needle, I looked away aaaaaannndd I fainted. Apparently I hit the counter on the way down, so I'm really lucky not to have any cuts or a concussion. But yeah, Rickie got a piercing, I got a battle scar.''

''I didn't know you had a fear of needles ...''

''Well I don't usually advertise it all around, you know ...''

''Well, Belonephobic, it's nice to meet you. I'm Claustrophobic.''

He extended his hand and shook hers as if they were formally introducing themselves. Billie smiled, knowing her friend wouldn't make fun of her for her phobia. She winced when the bell rang loudly and class began.

Halfway through the hour, Isaac noticed Billie shivering, rubbing her hands on her arms, trying to get warm. The window seats were always a bit drafty, but she was most probably feeling out of sorts as well, making it feel worse. Without a second thought, he shrugged off his hoodie and offered it to her. Billie tried to refuse, but since he still had a long-sleeved shirt underneath - and since she really was freezing in her cardigan - she took it gratefully. It was already warm and cozy and she snuggled up in it with glee. It smelled nice too. Lahey's fabric softener, probably. It smelled a bit minty and fresh and woodsy at the same time. She pulled the hood up over her stone-cold ears and went back to her notes.

Billie managed to make it through math and chemistry, even though she had been a bit too dazed to answer the teacher's questions this time. Mr Harris had asked about her condition as well. It seemed her dad had talked about her 'accident' in the teachers' lounge. Another incident happened in chemistry as well. Marsha was staring at the windows and yelled out.

''Hey I think they found something!''

Everybody went to the window and watched as the police wheeled out a body from the bus scene. There was a collective jump backwards when the man on the gurney suddenly stood and screamed in panic. Billie, standing a little to the back of the group, heard Stiles sighing.

"Okay, this is good, this is good. He got up, he's not dead. Dead guys can't do that.''

Scott's quiet voice almost didn't reach Billie as he said : ''Stiles, _I_ did that.''

Billie's eyes bulged out comically and she stared so hard at the back of Scott's head she could have set his hair on fire. _**He** did that? How could he ... ? No he couldn't ... ? But what did he mean then?_

She wanted to give Isaac back his hoodie after chemistry class, but he insisted she keep it since she wasn't top shape.

''You'll just have to bring it back to me at practice or something'' he had said wih a shrug. She then went to get lunch.

Erica wasn't at their usual table, so Billie went ahead and sat down next to Stilinski and McCall.

''... we'll figure it out.''

''Figure what out?'' Both boys jumped when they heard her voice. Stilinski stuttered helplessly and Scott came to his aid.

''Just, uhh, homework. How's your head Billie?''

She rolled her eyes and sprawled herself on the chair next to Stiles, pouting.

''Still tender and bruised, as it should be expected. Don't you see the lump? It looks like I'm growing a second head ... Feels like I am too. If it swells any more, I'll look like some creepy circus sideshow freak!''

''Woah Finstock, what's gor your bra in a twist?'' Stiles asked jokingly but his grin disappeared as soon as his eyes met Billie's murderous glare. ''Alright, shutting up now. Sorry.''

''It's fine, I'm just tired and cranky ...''

''Cranky, Finstock? Who could've thought!'' Jackson's obnoxious voice rang out as the table was suddenly assailed by the 'cool crowd'. Lydia, Danny and Allison sat around the awkward trio, who looked at each other with question marks all over the face. Billie scowled at Whittemore.

''What's that supposed to mean?''

''It means that you're always a cranky stuck-up, Finstock.''

''Only when in close proximity to your royal Highness ...'' Billie's mumbling was just not loud enough to reach Jackson's ears, but Scott and Allison tried to hide their laughter. Even Lydia's mouth quirked up for a second. Danny chuckled and smiled at Billie from his seat on the other side of Stilinski, who was trying to act cool. His remarkable failure to do so had the ever so patient Danny rolling his eyes in annoyance. Danny was a sweetheart, but he didn't warm up to everyone as easily. Billie had been one of the lucky ones, she became friends with Danny Mahelani ages ago. Now she sniggered and clapped his shoulder behind Stiles' back.

''So, I hear they're saying it's some type of animal attack. Probably a cougar.''

''I heard mountain lion'' Trust Jackass Whittemore not to know they were both the same!

''A cougar _is_ a mountain lion,'' Lydia blurted out. Even she couldn't help correcting Jackson's idiocy. '' Isn't it?'' she added, trying not to bruise his ego.

''Who cares, the guy's probably some homeless tweaker who's gonna die anyway ...''

Billie's glare could have frozen a volcanoe at the moment, but Jackson wasn't looking in her direction.

''Such a compassionate young man ...'' she muttered heinously, again to the slight amusement of everyone at the table except Whittemore.

''Actually I just found out who it is. Check it out.''

Stiles, serious for once, showed the group a news video that named the victim as Garrison Meyers. The man was still alive, thank heavens. _But what the hell happened to him? If this was really a mountain lion attack, jogging all around town at all hours might not be a good idea anymore. Better safe than sorry ... or dead!_

Billie only came back out of her daze when Lydia asked Allison about hanging out the next night. Allison and Scott both had a slight 'deer-in-the-headlights' look as they stared at each other.

'' ... You said you and Scott were hanging out tomorrow night, right?''

 _Ahh! Gossip!_ Billie bent forward attentively.

''Um, we were thinking of what we were gonna do ...''

''Well, I am _not_ sitting home again watching lacrosse videos, so if the four of us _are_ hanging out, we are doing something fun.''

''Hanging out? Like, the four of us?'' Scott looked practically apalled by the idea. ''Do you wanna hangout, like, us and them?''

''Yeah, I guess. Sounds fun.'' Allison tried to look cheerful, but the effect was lost. Their date was officially ruined by the power couple of Beacon Hills.

''You know what else sounds fun?'' Whittemore's very unwelcome voice was heard again, to Billie's great displeasure. ''Stabbing myself in the face with this fork.''

Billie turned to him with an excited, semi-psychotic, Finstock-trademark smile. ''Can I watch?''

''How about bowling? You love to bowl!'' Lydia was obviously trying to make it work, and Billie would have given her an 'A' for the effort and enthousiasm.

''Yeah with actual competition'' Jackson scoffed.

''How do you know we're not actual competition?'' Allison was game, good for her. She turned to Scott. ''You can bowl, right?''

All eyes turned to Scott, who hesitated before muttering an uncertain "Sort of".

"Is it sort of, or yes?" Jackson knew exactly how to rile up poor Scott.

"Yes." McCall's voice sounded a dozen times more confident suddenly, and he looked up at Whittemore with defiance in the eyes. "In fact, I'm a great bowler."

* * *

"You're a terrible bowler!" Stiles and Billie both exclaimed, following Scott down the stairs.

"I know!I'm such an idiot!" McCall complained loudly.

"God, it was like watching a car wreck, I mean ... First it turned into the whole group date thing ..."

"Which is almost a guaranteed friend-zone sentence ..." Billie cut in, torn between laughing at the boy's bad luck and offering him ice cream to console him.

"... And then out of nowhere comes that phrase!" Stilinski said, his head in his hands.

"Hanging out!" Scott seemed more desperate by the step as they went down the Math corridor.

"You don't hang out with hot girls, okay it's like death." Stiles added unhelpfully.

"Hey! What am I, a Pop-Tart?" Billie's voice rose and she chucked Stilinski up the back of his head.

"No Finstock, you're just one of the bros. Back to Scott. Once it's hanging out, you might as well be her gay best friend. You and Danny can start hanging out!"

"Well he might have an actual chance with Danny at least ..." Billie added, earning an annoyed eye roll from Stilinski.

"How is this happening? I either killed a guy or I didn't ..." Scott was now rambling out loud.

"I don't think Danny likes me very much ..." Stiles made a face.

"Of course not, Stilinski, he's sane." Billie sniggered.

"You're one to talk Finstock!" Stiles scoffed loudly.

"... I ask Allison on a date and now we're hanging out?"

"Am I unattractive to gay guys?"

"I make first line and the team captain wants to destroy me and now ..." Scott looked at his watch nervously.

"To be fair, Jackson wants to destroy everyone ..." Billie tried to lighten up the mood, to no avail.

"Now I'm gonna be late for work!" The shaggy haired boy promptly ran out and away from the still bickering pair.

"Wait Scott! You didn't an ... Am I attractive to gay guys? You didn't answer my question ..."

Stiles turned around and was surprised to see Finstock Jr standing less than a foot away, her swollen head bobbing up and down as she stifled a laugh.

"I'm sure some guys like 'em pasty white and scrawny. Don't worry Stiles, you just need to find your man."

"Dude, if you're not gonna help ..."

She shut him up with an impromptu hug. It wasn't the first hug they shared by far, but Billie was usually not a big public hugger, unless the team scored or something like that. So Stiles was a bit awestruck for a moment, until she let him go and grabbed his arm.

"Give me a ride home? Come on, I'm hurt and ill and I don't wanna wait for my dad."

Smirking at her falsely weak tone, Stiles put his arm around Billie's shoulder and took her to his Jeep.

* * *

It was only much later, when she was soaking in a bubble bath that night, that Billie realized what Scott had said. _He either killed a guy or he didn't?_ Billie opened her eyes and sat bolt upright, sloshing soapy water on the tile floor. _What did he mean by that? And what did he mean earlier too, when he said he did that to the bus driver? Did he really hurt that man? Gosh, there was so much blood all over the place! McCall, really?!_

Billie got back to her bedroom and mindlessly prepared for bed, still mulling over what she had heard. She took out her clothes for the next day, ripped jeans and an old knit sweater, and more elements came back to her. Conversation snippets, things she overheard, things she had overlooked. _"I'm having some issues ... dealing with aggression." What kind of issues? Was it really bad enough for him to attack someone?_

As she brushed her hair and removed what little make-up she had left, she remembered something else. Stiles's voice rand out in her head this time. _"_ _Well, it's gonna be a lot more violent if you end up killing someone of the field." Why was Stiles talking about Scott killing someone? Did Stiles know something about this?_

Billie laid in bed, chewing on her thumb nervously, her mind far from at ease. She remembered Scott's voice, full of aggressivity, when Coach was egging him on. She remembered the sickening sound of Jackson hitting the ground. _McCall had dislocated Jackson's shoulder. He had hurt a teammate. He had been pushed, and he had ultimately hurt a teammate, badly._

Something was seriously off with McCall.

* * *

 **A/N: So that's finally it for episode 3, I have already started writing the next chapter, fear not, my loyal readers!**

 **I hope you guys are still out there, that you're still enjoying the story ... Feel free to review if you like it, if you have any ideas as well!**

 **Until next time,**

 **Yours truly!**


	7. Odd Goings On Going On

**A/N: Hello hello hello my darlings! I've had a little trouble with this chapter, the last time I worked on it there was a saving snafu and it erased the whole document. ARGGH FCK NUUUOOOO! It's the second time the site does this to me and Billie, I should really learn to back up my work. Anyway, I have a fantastic memory and I am 90% caffeine at the moment, so I rewrote it in one sitting. ;D Have fun reading it!**

 **Also, big thanks to degrassiloverxoxo, xxrancooniesx and themiddlesman for you reviews, lots of love ! ❤**

 **As always, I own nothing here, but the lively Billie!**

* * *

Billie hadn't meant to stop by his house. She was on a jog to get back to her routine. Coach had been adamant about her avoiding any and all physical activity for a whole week after her fainting act at the tattoo parlor. It had been almost 7 days - ok, 5 days and 17 hours, but come on, she was halfway between a slow jog and a speed-walk, for goodness' sake!

She hadn't meant to stop by his house, but she was a bit winded and walking off a leg cramp in front of the Whittemore 'estate' - one could hardly call that monster a house really! And anyway Isaac was supposed to better his cardio, it was only altruistic of her to ask him to join. In three long strides, she was across the street and knocking on his door. She waited a minute or two and almost turned around, but heard noise from behind the door. It soon opened and Mr Lahey's face, a very obviously annoyed Mr Lahey, appeared. Billie started talking before he opened his mouth.

"Hello Mr Lahey, is Isaac home?"

He squinted at her through his tiny round glasses.

"Do I know you kid?"

She sputtered.

"Well erm ... Yes, sir. You coached my swim class. I'm Billie. Finstock?"

Recognition flashed in his eyes.

"Finstock? Oh Bobby's kid! Oh right I remember. You couldn't do a front crawl to save your life, but you were a natural at breaststroke. Should've kept going, you could have gone national."

Billie began switching her weight from one foot to the other. She didn't feel 100% comfortable under Mr Lahey's gaze.

"I ... guess we'll never know. Is Isaac home?"

"Oh no, he's working at the graveyard today. Say, what do you want with the boy anyway?"

"Well Coach Finstock wants him to work on his cardio for the lacrosse team, so I thought I'd take him out for a jog. You see, my dad thinks he could be pretty good, and ..."

Billie's incomfort was driving her to babble endlessly. She was practically relieved when Mr Lahey closed the door on her in the middle of her speech. She'd had a definite off feeling about him. Maybe it was the house? Or the man? Whatever it was, she could talk about it with Isaac later. Her cramp forgotten, Billie took off, back towards her home.

* * *

That night at casa de Finstock, father and daughter were sitting - or rather sprawled - on the sofa, when Billie's cell dinged to life. It was Stilinski.

 **\- Hey R U running tonight?**

 **\- No Y?**

 **\- Jackson & Lydia got attacked by a mountain lion downtown!**

 **\- WTF WHAT ?**

Billie exclaimed a loud curse that had her dad pausing the BBC documentary and looking at her sternly. His face changed however when she told him what happened.

"Are they hurt? Did Stilinski say anything else?"

"Not yet ..."

Billie typed another reply, urging for more info, and both Finstocks waited anxiously for an answer. They almost jumped when the phone dinged again.

 **\- Jackson got a cut but is OK Lydia is FREAKING OUT!**

 **\- Totally understandable, poor Lyds :'(**

"He says Jackson is okay and Lydia is freaking out ... Obviously! As if someone wouldn't be freaking out after that."

Coach was relieved to hear that his captain was unscathed, but this situation still worried him. He looked at his darling daughter, her bump not quite gone yet, and coughed.

"Peanut ... I don't want you running outside after dark anymore. At least until this whole thing blows over. Mountain lions are dangerous animals, you can't karate-chop your way out of an encounter with one of those. I'd be a lot less worried if you could do this, for the sake of my mental well-being. Okay?"

That was a harsh blow for Billie, who would go on midnight runs whenever she felt antsy at night, or was under stress, or just for the heck of it. Coach had made sure his kid had aced her self-defense classes, so he wasn't worried in the least for her against another human being, but fending off an animal attack was something else entirely.

"Okay Dad. I get it. I'll stay safe, promise."

She was gonna have to find a way to wreck herself during daylight hours. That or she'd need to buy a heap of sleeping pills!

* * *

That Sunday, Billie bravely put on a brown leather skirt, a floral blouse and a sweet expression, and went to see how Lydia was doing. To say that Mrs Martin was surprised to see Finstock Jr on her doorstep would be an understatement!

"Hello ... Mina!?"

"Hi Mrs Martin. Long time no see!"

"My my, look at you, all grown up! What can I do for you, Sweetie?"

"I came to see how Lyida is doing, if that's okay with you."

"Of course, come on in."

Mrs Martin led her upstairs, to Lydia's bedroom. It was the same room as when they were 5 years old, but the 'Princess Pink' and the painted clouds had disappeared ages ago, along with the gigantic dollhouse and the fairytale books. In the now tastefully decorated bedroom, Billie's friend was in bed, half-comatose, but stirred when she saw her visitor. Lydia sat up, her hair mussed and her makeup partially removed by the pillowcase, and smiled sleepily.

"Mmiiiinaaahh hiiii! Wwhassup?"

Billie sat down gingerly on the bed at Lydia's side and let out a sigh. What was up? What was she doing here? The girls hadn't been any closer than acquaintances since grade school. It had been a compulsion, really. She had just _felt_ that she needed to go and see Lydia Martin. Billie let her eyes wander around the bedroom, taking in the changes, noticing the pill bottle on the nightstand, next to an expensive cell phone and a plush giraffe. She suddenly remembered in vivid details the day she and her mother had bought that giraffe. It had been a gift for Lydia's 6th birthday and, no matter how much her parents had tried to get her to buy a prettier toy, the stubborn tomboy had insisted and got her friend the giraffe plush.

The unexpected memory of her mother, along with all the feels about the girls' friendship, had Billie suddenly feeling sadder than she had in a long time. Right then and there, for no logical reason she could explain to herself, Billie broke out in uncontrollable sobs. Seeing the unfappable, never-short-of-perfect Lydia Martin so vulnerable, so ... broken, it was more than what Billie could handle. She felt Lydia's hand patting her hair down, like a toddler trying to pet a cat with sticky-toddler hands.

"Sshhhh ... Issokay Minaahh. 'M resting today ..."

Billie turned and put her arms around the redhead in a long, back-breaking hug.

"Lydia I'm so SO glad you're not hurt. I was so scared when Stiles texted me ..."

From behind her back, she thought she heard the strawberry blonde girl mutter: "What's a Stiles?" but paid no heed to it, as she needed this hug too much to care otherwise.

When she finally let go, drying her eyes on her sleeves, Billie asked: "What happened to you Lyds?"

A change came over Lydia then. She was still very much dazed, but there was an edge to her demeanor. She looked suddenly scared.

Billie, noticing the change and getting more and more worried over it, was ready to call for Mrs Martin for help, but the girl sat, ramrod straight in her bed, staring at her phone on the bedside table. Her hand was stuck in the empty air halfway to it, too scared to go all the way. The girls stayed in this position for an awkward moment, until Billie's stopwatch beeped, telling the hour. _Shit, is it this late already?_ She had to go, but she felt horrible leaving her friend in such a state.

"Lydia? Lyds, look at me."

She gently brought Lydia's attention back to her.

"Lydia I ... I'm so sorry but I have to go. But ..." She took up Lydia's phone and put it in her limp hand. "But if you need anything ... or if you wanna talk ... or not talk, it's okay too ..."

She was babbling. Billie took a deep, steadying breath.

"If there's anything at all, I'm here for you, okay? You have my number, use it."

She stood up and sat back down almost immediately with a nagging doubt.

"You do have my cell number, right? Lydia?"

A "hmph" came out, but it was not exactly an answer, so Billie picked the phone back up and put in her number, sending herself a "1-2 Test" text along the way. The birdsong ringtone rang out from her own pocket as she got up again and left Lydia's cell on the bedside table.

"Here you go Lydia. You have my number now. So feel free to text or call, okay? I'll answer, I promise."

Billie left the room and bid goodbye to Mrs Martin. On the way home, she mulled over the events of the last few days. So there was a wild animal attacking people after nightfall. The sheriff had instituted a curfew for anyone under 18 because of that, not that her or any of her friends were abiding by it. They said it was a mountain lion, at least that was what the authorities had said after the school bus attack. The victim hadn't survived, his injuries had gotten the best of him days later in the hospital.

 _Wait a minute ..._ Scott had said something about that incident in Chemistry class. He said _he_ did that. How? Did he really have anything to do with that? And what about the other attacks, did he have anything to do with the other attacks?Like Lydia and Jackson's? He and Whittemore were never going to start a bromance together, but was it bad enough to attack him? That sounded ludicrous, Scott wouldn't hurt a fly.

 _And yet ..._ He'd already hurt jackson badly during practice. And what did he say when he tried to back out of the first game?

 _"I'm having issues ... dealing with aggression."_

So soft-spoken, shaggy-haired Scott had a violent side he tried to hide. But you couldn't hide something this intense to everyone all the time. Someone must have noticed something. Someone ...

 _Stiles!_ He knew something. He had been trying to get Scott to back out of the game, he said something about Scott killing someone on the field. He also happened to be the sheriff's son, which meant he probably had some insider knowledge on the animal attacks. Billie wouldn't put it past Stiles to rummage through his father's files. Stilinski must know something about Scott's relation with the attacks. But how could he be doing that? Those were animal attacks, no human could have done that. She would have to squeeze the info out of the spazzy boy one way or another. Billie's dad had asked her to watch and listen around for whatever could impair Scott's performance on the team, but this was becoming much more serious than just teenage drama in the locker rooms.

* * *

The coming Monday was to be the parent-teacher conference, an evening that Billie would have thoroughly enjoyed sitting at home alone with the old Dracula movies - with the great Christopher Lee - and ramen noodles and Twizzlers. However, since she had the assistant-coach job, she was now forced to assist Coach as he met with the parents of his players.

"I should get paid for this, you know. Since I'm working overtime."

Both Finstocks were getting out of the car in the parking lot, both trying - and failing - to look professionnal. Coach had changed his usual polo and khaki shorts for an actual suit and a button-down shirt, and was constantly fiddling with the crooked tie around his neck. There was nothing to be done for his crazy hair, though, and it stuck up in the air as always. Billie had chosen a pair of black leather leggings and a smart-looking tuxedo jacket, along with black high heeled ankle boots. The effect was undermined, however, by the She-Hulk T-shirt and the eye-liner heart high on her left cheek, hiding an annoyingly red pimple that had sprung out that very morning. _Talk about bad timing!_

"Wouldn't that be swell! But I'm not getting paid overtime for this, so neither are you Peanut. We're getting donuts on the way back home, that should cover your fees."

Billie, slightly mollified by the prospect of late night donuts, smiled and went on her way to her locker while her father headed for his office. Nearby, she noticed Allison Argent coming down a flight of stairs. Billie stopped her in her tracks.

"Her Allison! How's it going?"

Allison smiled shyly, looking rather shifty for a school day.

"Oh hi Billie! I'm good, thanks. Are you headed for Math?"

"Yeah ... Oh by the way, I wanted to wish you a happy birth..."

Allison shushed her hurriedly, looking around them.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to be rude. I just ... I don't like advertising it all over the school."

"Oh. Oh okay, not a problem. Alright then, have a happy, totally ordinary day then!"

The girls separated with a smile and a short wave. Billie went to her class, sitting next to Isaac, and pulled his hoodie out from her backpack. She'd washed it last weekend. He took it with a smile.

"What's with the look, Finstock?"

"I have to look professionnal for the parent-teacher night. I'll be talking to all the lacrosse players' parents and with the cross country team. So I'll be having a double chat with your dad."

Isaac flinched. Visibly.

"Yeah ... I don't think he'll make it tonight. The cemetery's getting a bit busy because of the attacks ..."

"Business is booming in the tombstone department also, I hear."

He rolled his eyes at her, then class started.

* * *

Scott was AWOL since this morning. Stilinski was nowhere to be found. Billie texted the latter, asking if they could talk. She hadn't forgotten her idea of hustling information out of him. He answered her at least, saying he was off to Lydia's, to see how the girl of his dreams was doing. Billie could have easily told him how she was doing, but there was no point trying to keep Stilinski away from Lydia. The poor boy was lovestruck and hopeless.

Not too long later, Billie's cell dinged. She checked the caller ID and saw she'd gotten a message from Lydia. It was a dark, blurry picture. Billie thought she saw teeth, and eyes, but the dark shape looked like nothing familiar. She wrote back.

 **\- Whats that Lyds?**

 **-Oh shit Finstock?**

 **-Yeah ...**

 **\- It's Stiles. I was trying to send that to my phone. Not yours.**

 **\- OK 1. WTF are U doing with Lydia's cell? 2. WTF is that?**

His answer took a while to come in.

 **\- 1. I was sending myself a blurry pic 2. Nevermind**

 **\- Ugh whatever dude!**

If Billie hadn't been bored out of her mind in French class, she would have tucked her cell back in her bag and forgotten about it. As it was, she had already finished the conjugation exercise and was doodling in the margins of her notebook. She brought up the picture again, looking at it with a bit more attention this time. There were indeed teeth, sharp ones too. The eyes were red, and the shape evoked something wild, an animal of some kind. From the looks of it, it was a huge animal.

This came from Lydia's cell phone, and Stiles had wanted a copy of it. Could it be related to the animal attacks? if it was, that didn't look like a mountain lion at all. Before she could ponder this further, Miss Morelle called her to the blackboard for an exercise.

* * *

The parent-teacher conference was a drag, as should be expected. Billie spent her time with her dad, pulling out the student files and only participating when the students were in a sports team. Jackson's parents, Mr Stilinski, Scott's mom. They all spent a short time with Coach and Billie, with more or less the same questions and comments. "He's a great player" or "the team wouldn't be the same without him." Only with Mr S. did Billie have a real laugh, seeing her dad trying - and failing - to pronounce Stiles's first name, then having Mr S. calling her dad "cupcake".

As the evening wore on, Billie became less and less attentive to the proceedings. She was still thinking about the picture from Lydia's phone. What was that thing?

The parents and teachers were all headed out into the parking lot after the end of the night. Billie and Bobby Finstock were carrying their bags to the car and discussing whether or not to get a full dozen donuts or just a half-dozen, when cries of alarm were heard around them. Suddenly, everyone was on high alert. Screams of "mountain lion!" fused from the many rows of parked cars around them. The animal was here, stalking people, letting out a yowl from time to time, scaring everyone even more. Coach pulled his daughter by the hand and they ran through the people running confusely in several directions. Billie glimpsed at Scott and Allison while running. They looked as terrified as she felt. Billie suddenly had to let go of her dad's hand and pull herself on the hood of a car to avoid a crowd of scared students and their parents scrambling in the opposite direction. In the middle of the confusion, Billie, with her new vantage point, saw the animal's shape prowling and dodging the now moving cars. Sheriff Stilinski had taken his gun out, was aiming at the animal, was hit by a backing car. A gunshot rang out, and then everything went silent. People stopped rushing.

The gun had been fired by Mr Argent, Allison's dad. Mr S. was still on the ground, visibly in pain. Not too far from the car Billie was still standing on, lay the very large, very dead carcass of a mountain lion. Its pale golden fur was matted with blood where the bullet had hit. It was over.

* * *

 **A/N: Alright, this is done! I'm glad to be done with this one (again!) I know it might have felt like a little bit of a filler chapter, but things are getting more and more serious as time goes on. I can't wait to write the next one! I love writing about Billie's thought process and how she figures out the whole deal.**

 **I'm sorry I haven't been able to post during the summer. It's a shame really, I thought I could use the downtime at work to work on my fic, but in the end I've started many new ones instead of continuing the original. I'll blitz a little bit of Billie soon, because we're getting into the fun stuff now, but you can blame Harry Potter, Black Sails and Merlin for the dry summer!**

 **As always, reviews are the biggest gifts I wish for!**


	8. Monitoring Hearts (and heart-rates)

**A/N: Hello readers!**

 **There's a good deal more of you around now, the numbers are adding up and I'm so happy about it! I have been working on this tidbit of a chapter for over a month now, and it's finally ready. Things are getting more interesting now, Billie's not so much on the sidelines anymore ... Let's see how she does ...**

 **As always, I own nothing of what's being referenced here. Now here we go!**

* * *

"Peanut I am so, SO sorry!"

The 'peanut' in question woke up suddenly, jerked awake by her dad shaking her.

"Wha - Is 'e house on fire?"

Bobby Finstock was standing over her, in her darkened bedroom, looking guilty as hell.

"I missed your birthday, Sweetheart."

He woke her up at - she looked at her alarm clock - 2:25 IN THE MORNING ... FOR THAT?!

"DAAAAAAAD! What the hell?"

She plunged her head face first in her pillow, pushing him away.

"I can't believe it, I'm the worst Dad in the world!"

From the depths of the pillow Billie's voice could be heard.

"I bet Mr Hitler Sr would beg to differ."

"I was so busy with the parent-teacher night, and the animal attacks, a-and lacrosse that I ... I completely forgot what day it was!"

Billie forgot about going back to sleep anytime soon and sat up, her hair sticking up all over the place, just like her dearest dad's.

"Dad, it's no biggie. To be honest, I forgot it too ..."

"But it's your Sweet 16, it's supposed to be a great day for teenage girls! I screwed up your social life, didn't I?"

"You screwed up my beauty sleep, alright! But I can screw up my social life all by myself, thank you."

"I'm so sorry Peanut. I'll make it up to you, I promise! Anything you want for your birthday, you got it!"

Billie rolled her eyes at him and smiled. He was pacing up and down her room and apologizing non-stop. She patted her hand on the foot of the bed and he sat down.

"Dad, you're overreacting. Stop it. We can go out for dinner later on this week, alright?"

"You sure? I mean, is that all?"

She smiled deviously.

"Maybe I can guilt you into a shopping trip next weekend?"

"You got it, Peanut. As long as you don't ask my opinion about clothes! Alright, I'll let you sleep, we got cross-country training tomorrow!"

He got up and headed out of the room.

"You mean today!"

He scoffed and closed the door. Billie laughed quietly, still disbelieving. They had both forgotten her birthday! It had fallen on the last Sunday, when she'd gone to see Lydia. She was so nervous about going to see her friend and afterwards so preoccupied by McCall and his mysterious anger issues, that she had never registered what day it was. Her dad had also had his workload almost doubled with the coming parent-teacher night and the changes in the lacrosse line-up. Add to that the animal attacks that had the entire town on edge, and it was no surprise in the end that they had forgotten her 16th birthday.

* * *

The cross-country team was assembling on the bleachers in the dewy morning. It was cold, even for that time of year. They were all shivering in their sportswear. Well, all except Billie, who had downed half a pot of coffee that morning to make up for her fractured sleep last night. She was bouncing on the balls of her feet and constantly wiping away the condensation that gathered at the tip of her nose, looking more than a little like she'd snorted a line or two in the girls locker room. Danny Mahelani was stretching next to her and recounting his last date, when a shy blond boy in jogs stopped next to the pair. Billie saw him and smiled.

''Hey Lahey! Glad you could make it. You know Danny, right?''

The tall and lanky boy nodded, averting his eyes to the top of the trees. _Billie Finstock in short-shorts, really?_ She was, as a matter of fact, wearing a pair of white running shorts and a tight-fitting long-sleeve pale grey hoodie. Her flimsy hood was raised over her ponytail, giving her a bit of a conehead.

''Hey Isaac, I didn't know you'd joined cross-country.''

Billie answered for her friend, who seemed fascinated by the wind in the leafless trees.

''Coach wants him to get a better cardio for Lacrosse. He's no use to us if he can't run the length of the field.''

Danny nodded and took a good look at Billie's friend. He was good looking, in a 'Disney Prince' sort of way. Clean-shaven - or maybe he just didn't have any facial hair yet - and definitely on the tall side of the spectrum, unkempt blond curls, pretty eyes - if only they'd look elsewhere than the high skies! - and that shy attitude was beyond cute on him. Danny wondered for a second which way the new Lacrosse player swinged. Seeing as they would spend a lot of time together during practice and cross-country, it might be good to know.

Coach's whistle cut short any more thoughts about Isaac Lahey, and all gathered around the crazy-haired man in the tracksuit.

''Alright everyone, listen up! We're still far from the next cross country meet, and we've got some newbies with us today, so it'll be a soft 5 miles. Don't overdo it, we're not even in full season yet! It's no use pushing yourselves to the limit if you end up with a sprain or a torn ligament. Try to keep a 9:00/mile pace, should take you about 45 minutes. But any higher than 55 minutes, you gotta start asking yourselves what you're doing on the team!''

Everybody took their starting position. Isaac followed suit, very much aware that he had no idea what he was doing.

''One more time for the people in the back. We are not in competition yet, so again, pace yourselves!''

Billie's voice came from the front of the group.

''Me too, Coach?''

He smirked at her.

''Don't you dare pace yourself.''

He whistled. The group, led by Billie, began running in direction of the woods behind the school.

They all ran in a cluster, Isaac finding himself near Danny most of the time. He was sweating, breathing hard and his heart was beating a violent tempo, and they hadn't even run a mile yet! The others next to him were all keeping a similar pace, but none of them looked as winded as he felt. But then again, none of them was apparently capable of keeping up with Finstock Jr either.

Billie was always a good distance ahead, bounding on the trail like a deer. Her white shorts made her easy to follow in the shadows of the woods, in the grey, cloudy morning. Isaac tried to stay focused on his breathing and his pace, but found himself focusing on Billie's pace instead. He could see her back in front of them, a pale spot in the gloom, her strides confident and sure. She jumped lightly over fallen tree trunks and side-stepped around rabbit holes and other inconveniences like there was nothing to it. Her sleek ponytail swinged behind her, following her every move like a panther's tail. Isaac tried to mimic her movements, but there was no way he could copy the effortless grace and assurance that practically oozed from Billie Finstock on a run. He kept staring at the back of her, hypnotized and envious of the way she ran.

''Don't try to follow her. You'll give yourself a heart attack.''

Isaac looked to his left. Danny was jogging next to him again. He didn't look winded, but his voice was breathless. _Okay, maybe it's not as effortless for them as they make it look._ That was the first hopeful thought to enter Lahey's head since he woke up - dreafully early - this morning.

''Wh ... what d'you mean?''

''Billie's the best in the team, you can't try to keep up with her. Even I can't, and I've been training with her for like 2 years!''

Isaac nodded. He tried to steady his stride to fit with Danny's. It seemed a more reasonable thing than to try and follow his friend.

''Any other pointers you might want to give me?''

Danny looked him up and down, assessing.

''Stretch your stride. You've got long legs, use them!''

Isaac nodded again, thankful for the advice. Danny pushed himself a bit faster, and Isaac let him push forward. He tried to keep his mind focused on stretching his legs at every step which was, surprisingly, not too hard to do. It gave him something to focus on, and he fell into a slow rythm.

When he finished along with some of the slower runners, not caring a bit about his 49 minute time, Isaac thought for sure he was either already dead and in hell, or about to die. His heart had been replaced with a jackhammer, his lungs felt like they were burning from inside his chest, and he had a metallic, blood-like taste in his mouth that made him want to spit constantly. The blond boy stopped at the bleachers and collapsed on the nearest bench. He could see Danny and a few others stretching not far, but he didn't have the courage to get up and mimic them. As he was still trying to get his vitals under control, a shadow appeared over his head.

''You're gonna cramp up if you don't stretch."

Billie was standing over him with her hands on her hips, smiling. Damn her, she looked downright gorgeous right now! She could be a poster-girl for some sportswear brand. Her cheeks were reddened by the run, giving her a nice blush and a healthy glow. Her eyes were sparkling with wild joy after the exercice. She did not even appear to be sweating. _How the hell does one look this good after running 5 miles?_ Isaac hated the girl at the moment, even more when she began pulling him up by the arm.

"Come on, up you go! You'll thank me later, I swear."

Grunting, Lahey sat up and sent a glare her way.

"Maybe I will later, Finstock, but right now I could murder you."

She giggled. _Giggled!?_

"Right now you couldn't even swat my hand away if you tried."

He rolled his eyes and stood up, his arms hanging limply at his sides, knees almost buckling.

"Happy now, you sadist?"

"Ecstatic. Come on."

She began stretching her legs against the bench, her top half folding over the stretched limb, her forehead against her shin. Isaac gulped at the sight of his friend imitating a pretzel and tried his best to do the same, although his own body was far less flexible. He was still in that position, avoiding the sight of Billie's long, tan legs next to him, when she stood and went to stand behind him, putting her hands on his shoulders. Instantly he tensed, the redness that had been slowly receding from his face returning full force.

"Relax your muscles, Lahey. You're wound up as tight as a bedspring! Make sure to exhale when you're stretching. Helps a lot, trust me."

She was pushing softly on his back, and he had to admit she was right. He exhaled and his torso shifted, going lower against his stretched leg. After doing the same to the other leg, he followed her into more stretches and gradually relaxed. He even managed to exchange a few jokes with Billie and Danny before heading back to the boys locker room, while Finstock Jr split for the girls locker room.

The dark haired boy kept talking to Lahey as they changed.

"You should do a few runs with a heart rate monitor. Ask Finstock for one, she'll wire you up and clock you. It's the best way to get better fast."

Isaac made a non-commital noise and shrugged. It seemed like just more work for his friend.

"It's part of her job, she's assistant-coach _and_ captain of the cross-country team. She'll be happy to help you."

Why was Danny being all friendly with him today? He'd never even acknowledged him before. It couldn't be just because he was friends with Billie? And why was he winking at him all of a sudden?

"I-I don't know ... Maybe ..."

Danny chuckled as he took his shirt off.

'' _And_ you could spend more one-on-one time with her. Alone."

Isaac grunted, but there was no hiding the blush creeping up his face and ears again. He avoided looking over to Danny, who was smirking deviously at him.

''You're blushing Lahey.''

Isaac shook his head vehemently.

''No I'm not.''

''Yeah, you're totally blushing. And as much as I wish it was because of me ... You have a thing for Billie.''

Isaac sputtered in denial. _Was Danny insane? Billie 'Terminator' Finstock? The chemistry-loving madwoman? The nail polish-toting whistle-addict?_

''Danny I don't remember you hitting your head against a tree, are you alright?''

''Right, and you totally weren't ogling her ass all through the run! Whatever, just make sure Coach doesn't notice you drooling all over his prize pony.''

Danny's words kept bugging Isaac all through the morning. Did he have a _thing_ for Billie Finstock? That sounded just as insane as his dad crying while watching Bambi! The girl's reality was so far from Isaac's own world, it was a wonder they were friends at all. She liked sports, he liked video games. She collected nail polish, he collected comic books. She took care of her looks, and he didn't even own a mirror to look into. She was an accomplished athlete, he was a total dork. Nothing in common.

That conclusion left an ashy, bitter taste in his mouth, and he was in a foul mood for the rest of the day.

* * *

"Hey Rickie, what are you doing tomorrow night?"

Erica raised her head from her pasta alfredo with an annoyed look on her face.

"My dad wants me to help him clean up the garage before the weekend. Apparently there's gonna be some bad weather coming in and he's worried about his precious Audi. I swear that car means more to him than me!"

Billie and Erica were sitting at their cafeteria table, in the middle of lunch. Billie had already finished wolfing down her roastbeef sandwich and was trying to get her best friend to come to dinner for the belated birthday.

"Is there any way you could get out of it? My dad's taking me to dinner for my birthday, and I thought it'd be nice if you'd come too."

Erica smiled apologetically.

"Sorry Billie, but since my dad found out about the piercing, he's got me on a tight leash. It's downright military at home these days. At least the teachers said only nice things about me the other night. Didn't exactly mollify him but it didn't give him more ammo either ..."

"Funny, my dad was mad too when he learned about that piercing you got. I think he was just about ready to go down there and punch your dad's lights out!"

That got Erica out of her gloomy mood. Or maybe it was the sight of a tall blond crossing through the cafeteria with a heavily laden lunch tray.

"You know who you should invite? Lahey."

Billie scoffed.

"Are you nuts? The guy eats like four times as much as me and my dad together, he's a total garbage compactor! It would cost as much as the shopping trip I weaseled out of my dad just for one dinner!"

"I'm just saying, if you like him ..."

Billie rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

"Oh stop it! You're downright hallucinating if you think I like him."

"Oh? So I didn't really see you wearing his precious hoodie the other day?"

Billie frowned.

"That was a one-time charitable gesture on his part, and a direct consequence of your rash actions, Miss Reyes."

She pointed at her head meaningfully while Erica smiled deviously, an expression she nailed down much better than Billie, it was worth mentionning.

"Well I'm glad, then! And didn't he have dinner at your house with you and your dad last week, after spending the whole afternoon alone with you there?"

"Alright, now you're just twisting facts to fit your twisted little theory, and that's against all that Sherlock Holmes stands for."

Erica just kept on smiling that infuriating knowing smile of hers all through lunchtime. At least she was enjoying herself again, but now Billie was the one in a foul mood.

* * *

After lunch, on her way to French, Billie was accosted - or rather attacked - by a flailing Stiles.

''Yo Billie! Just the girl I was looking for!''

She rolled her eyes at him. He should have enrolled in the Drama Club, he had such a flair for the dramatic!

''That's very flattering Stilinski, but I thought Lydia was the One?''

The boy laughed at her joke. That worried Billie. If the King of Sarcasm himself didn't sass her back, something was up.

''Good one, Finstock. Look I have a tiny favor to ask you.''

 _Oh goody, here comes trouble._

''Sure, what can I do for you?''

''Can I borrow one of the track-team's heart-rate monitors? I need it to ... to monitor my heart-rate?''

Monitor his heart-rate? With his poor performances on the field, Billie wasn't even sure the skinny kid had a heart-rate to begin with!

''Oh? Afraid of getting a heart attack anytime son, Stilinski?''

He made a show of scoffing, unconsciously proving to her that he was pulling her leg.

''Nahh, just ... curious.''

A red flag of creepy suspicion rose in Billie's mind.

''Dude! I'm not lending you school material so you can do dirty stuff with it!''

That - rather loud - excalmation turned a few heads in the crowded corridor.

Stiles spazzed, his arms jerking in incomprehensible motions, his panicked look still on Finstock.

''No, you crazy woman! Scott is ... helping me train. Yeah, he's helping me make first line too!''

Eyebrow still raised in suspicion, Billie took a second to think. _Is this about Scott?_ Maybe the shy boy wants to keep his anger in check. Her dad used the heart-rate monitors sometimes, when he was under stress, just to keep an eye on his health. She could very well lend them one, the team wouldn't be using them for at least a month. But this was a surprising opportunity for her to spy on the pair. She couldn't let that pass.

''Tell you what, I'll bring you one on the field next period. Mr Donoghue's not here so I got a freebie. I'll help you guys out.''

Stiles seemed less than thrilled.

''Bu-but don't you have anything better to do? It's not like we're gonna rob a bank with that thing. You don't have to babysit us!''

''Sorry man, either I'm here to monitor the ... monitoring, or you find another way. It's my job that's on the line, you know.''

She looked at him with an apologetic smile. Stiles was deep in thought, obviously wondering if he could trust her with whatever they were doing, his head bobbing this way and that at each argument his hyperactive mind came up with. The first bell rang.

''Look, I can't be late to French. Make up your mind and text me before next period!''

She began making her way to Miss Morrell's class, only to hear Stilinski's shout behind her.

''Alright, fine Finstock! See you on the field!''

She raised a thumb up in his direction. _Good, finally found a way to know what the hell is going on ..._

* * *

French class dragged on and on and on. Billie already had a firm grasp on the _participe passé_ , but it seemed the rest of the class did not. So after the last test they'd taken, Miss Morrell, in her infinite wisdom, had chosen to do a special session on that today. Billie could have skipped the whole class and missed nothing.

As it was, she was color-coding her chemistry notes, something Lahey had found impressive when she'd lended them to him to copy, when she saw Allison, the only other apt student in class, pulling a book from her bag and picking up where she'd marked the page. Intrigued, Billie leaned to her left and tried to attract Allison's attention.

''Hey Argent, what's that about?''

She seemed surprised to be adressed by the athletic girl, but smiled warmly.

''Oh it's for that project in History class. It's about the Beast of Gévaudan. It's an old French legend, and one of my ancestors plays a part in it.''

Billie's eyebrows rose up to her hairline. Allison showed her a picture of a large, wolf-like creature with red eyes emerging from the fog.

''That's so cool! Your project is gonna be awesome. Mine is all about this little town in Oxfordshire, and why my ancestor changed his name when he came to America. So unless he robbed the Bank of England and escaped in a hot-air balloon, it's gonna be dreadfully dull ...''

Morrell interrupted them.

'' _Mademoiselle Finstock, comment accorderiez-vous le participe dans la phrase au tableau?_ ''

Billie looked up and saw the teacher's grim face. She checked the sentence on the board and almost sighed in relief. It was too easy.

'' _C'est un participe avec le verbe 'être', donc on l'accorde e_ _n genre et en nombre avec le sujet._ ''

Morrell rose an eyebrow, but the girl's answer was correct and they both knew it. She turned around and wrote another sentence on the board, jaw tensed. Billie was not her favorite student. She had a natural talent for languages, and she obviously didn't need to put in any effort to keep up with the class. Keeping her attention focused during the whole period was a hard task, and more often than not Miss Morrell chose to let the girl be, as long as she was quiet. At least, she could be counted on to give the right answer.

Allison and Billie each returned to their individual musings. Billie, however, found she could not concentrate on her chemistry notes anymore. The image in Allison's book had reminded her of something, but she could not quite put her finger on what just yet. It bugged her so much that she almost forgot about meeting the boys with a heart-rate monitor.

* * *

''Stiles, what the hell! You can't involve Finstock Jr in this!''

Scott's furious muttering reached Billie's ears as she came to meet the pair on the bleachers, heart-rate monitor in hand. She pretended not to hear them as Stiles fumbled a retort.

''Yeah well what was I supposed to do? We got until tonight before Derek comes along, remember?''

 _Derek? Like the tall-dark-and-creepy guy from Lydia's party? What's he got to do with Scott?_ The word 'gang' suddenly popped up in Finstock's mind, but she shoved her thoughts down and chose to observe her friends instead.

Scott sighed, defeated, before both boys turned to their friend.

''Hey Billie! Thanks for lending us the monitor. That's really nice ...''

She sauntered over to them, smiling.

''Oh it's nothing, Scotty. Anything for my friends! So, what kind of training are you guys trying to monitor? Rate during exercice? High intensity training? Maximum burst? Endurance exercice?''

They looked at her, completely at a loss. She narrowed her eyes.

''Anger management issues?''

Both of them started, Stiles violently so _. Really, those boys did not know how to lie!_ Billie smiled triumphantly as she turned to McCall.

''Alright, so I'm assuming this is for you Scotty?''

McCall's eyes were now bulging comically out of his face, and Stilinski was turning into a red-faced, stuttering mess.

''Wha-whe ... W-Why would you say that, Finstock?''

Eyeroll.

''Because McCall tried to get out of the first game because he had - and I quote - 'issues dealing with anger'. Now I'm guessing you're trying to find a solution to your problem on your own, and I think that's very noble of you. Which is why I'm willing to help you out, just like Spazz-tinski here.''

The both of them exhaled a relieved breath. Apparently they thought this was a bigger issue than she did. _But what if they are right? What if this is more than just anger issues? What is Scott doing with this Derek guy? Was it really something as bad as they made it seem?  
_

"Come over here, let me wire you up."

Scott came to her, still unsure about Stiles' idea, especially the part about involving Billie. What if she saw something? What if he turned and hurt her? Nervously chewing his lip, the shaggy-haired boy let Billie raise his shirt to fit the heart-rate monitor on him. He flinched. Billie raised her head, concerned.

"Everything alright, Scotty?"

"Yeah, yeah ... Your hands are cold."

"Oh, sorry ... I guess it's because I'm a cold-hearted bitch, at least according to the rest of the Lacrosse team!"

Both boys chuckled. Billie was known to be as much of a hardass as her dad, and some of the guys in the team did not take being ordered around by a girl too well. Testosterone tended to fly high in the locker room, and Miss Billie Finstock was far from a dainty damsel in distress when it came to putting the boys in their places.

Stiles came forward and began tying up Scott's hands behind his back with duct tape. Scott looked suddenly worried, and Billie stared at the both of them suspiciously.

''Kinky, Stilinski. What was is you were trying to train him for, already?''

Stiles sent Scott to the goal and rolled his eyes at Finstock, like the answer was evident.

''If he needs to learn to control his anger issues, we need him angry, right?''

She nodded, pulling out her cell and starting the monitoring app.

''Well I'm gonna make him angry.''

The pale boy stomped over to the middle of the field and began throwing balls at Scott's bound form. After the initial shock of seeing the best friends acting so weird, Billie had to admit Stiles was somehow right. When it came to pissing people off, Stiles was an Olympic champion. He could make a nun swear in 2.7 seconds and had the most extensive detention record Billie had ever seen in a student file. Not that she was using her position as Assistant-Coach to do some - unauthorized - light reading!

She could see the results of Stiles' technique easily enough, the heart-rate monitor registering Scott's pulse rising steadily as Stiles kept pummeling him with throws. A small part of Billie's brain was impressed by Stilinski's aim. He never missed. Granted, usually you tried to shoot the ball in the goal, not on the goaler directly, but still. Billie's gaze went back and forth between the monitor and the boys on the field. Suddenly, Scott's hands weren't bound behind his back anymore. He'd broken through the duct tape. The monitor showed his heart-rate had reached 140 and was still climbing. Billie rose from her seat and took a tentative step towards him. Stiles had dropped his lacrosse stick and run to his friend on the ground. She was too far to hear what they were saying, but she could see plainly that the shaggy boy's heart was slowing down. He was calming down.

''Yo McCall, you're doing good buddy!''

Stiles lifted a thumbs up in her direction. He allowed Scott a few minutes rest to get his cool back, then they went for another round. After almost 40 minutes of this game, Billie got bored of watching the boys. She got up, dusted her wool skirt and paisley tights, and waved the pair over to her.

''Yo guys! As fun as it is to watch Stilinski try and fail to get it in the net, even with a bound goalie, I have to go and see Coach about something.''

The buzz-cut boy let out an offended sound while Scott nodded, a disappointed look on his face.

''Sure, it's cool. I wish we could've kept going though, I was really doing some progress towards the end. Anyway thanks Billie, I appreciate it.''

He began fumbling to try and remove the monitor, but she stopped his hand and sighed, resigned. Her conscience was nagging at her, and McCall had that sad-puppy look that she simply could not refuse.

''Keep it on. You, I trust.''

She gave a pointed look to Stiles.

''Keep it until next week. You're doing good. As long as you give it back to me next monday and don't destroy it, okay?''

Scott nodded vigorously, smiling like a fool as she picked up Stiles' cell and expertly installed the monitoring interface on it.

''Here you go Stilinski, you're synched to this particular heart-rate monitor. You can keep helping him this weekend.''

She smiled as Scott envelopped her in a warm hug.

''Thanks Billie, you're a sweetheart!''

She laughed as she left them behind on the field and headed back to the school building.

''And don't you boys forget it!''

* * *

"Peanut, where've you been?"

Billie was just closing the door to her dad's office when he looked up and began scolding her.

"Do you smell those locker rooms? It's scandalous!"

"Oh shit!"

Bobby Finstock gave his daughter a severe look and she had the decency to look sheepish at being caught, both swearing and doing a crappy assistant coach job. She had completely forgotten that she was supposed to clean the locker rooms during lunch today. She even had had an unexpected free period, but of course she'd had to go spend it with the dynamic duo McCall and Stilinski. _Damn!_

"I'm so sorry, Coach. It won't happen again. I totally forgot. I guess I didn't get much sleep last night..."

He sighed, sitting back in his chair. He'd been studying strategies for the next Lacrosse game. That usually put him in a less-than-happy mood. It was lots and lots of analysis of the previous games (from both teams) and of extrapolations of how one would react to the other. To Billie, it had more to do with divination than actual strategy, but she'd never tell that to her dearest dad!

"Alright, it's fine for this time, but next week they better be sparkling clean!"

Billie shook her head, her ponytail swishing behind her.

"No, I better stay later tonight and do it. If I don't, the smell's gonna get embeded into the equipment."

Her father was about to argue, but she cut him off before he could start.

"It's no biggie. There's no more mountain lions lurking around. Even the Sheriff's department raised the curfew. Anyway, it's gonna be much easier if I don't have a bunch of students in my way. I'll be able to crank my music higher up!"

Coach Finstock laughed. His Peanut loved to sing and sang almost all the time, but she was completely tone-deaf and her taste ranged from the Rolling Stones to humming Bach at the top of her lungs. He was actually glad he wouldn't have to listen to that tonight.

"Alright alright. But you're going to call me when you're done and I'll ..."

"... you'll stay home and watch TV because I'll be jogging home too. I haven't had a decent run in days and it shows. My time sucked this morning!"

Coach shook his head, defeated. He had noticed. Billie was usually far ahead of the pack, but today she'd been finishing just a few feet before the frontrunners. His Peanut was not in her best shape, after that faint and the curfew and all the worry over the mountain lion attacks. She needed to get back to her routine.

"Okay, but you call me when you leave school and it's a straight run home, no meandering in the streets."

"Aye aye, captain!"

She gave him a mock military salute and a wry smile before heading back out.

* * *

 _It's a good thing I can read French!_

Billie was in the computer lab, _not_ doing the assignment Mrs Flanery had put on the whiteboard, clicking left and right to keep her eyes from closing on their own. Last night's lack of sleep was catching up to her. She could feel it. So, instead of aligning columns in Excel, Billie was googling Allison's legend about the Beast of Gévaudan.

 _The Beast of Gévaudan was the culprit of numerous attacks in the Gévaudan region of France between 1764 and 1767. These 124 attacks, most of them fatal, were thought to be the work of a wolf, an exotic animal or even a werewolf. It was thought the Beast was a divine punishment after the extreme violence of the Seven Years War. The situation became so dire that the King of France sent some of his dragoons to Gévaudan to hunt and kill the_ _Beast._

So that was the story of Allison's ancestor. One of the king's militia, most probably, who killed a dangerous wolf. And the people thought it had been a werewolf. These superstitions must have been rampant back then, from witches to werewolves and goblins. A monster behind every tree in the forest.

Done with the legend of the Beast, she clicked on the link to the page on werewolves. It was still better than listening to the teacher droning on and on about variables. Billie had developped an interest - or rather a small fascination - with werewolf legends and lore when she was 12 or 13, around the time the first signs of her puberty hit. She had felt that the changes her body was going through were like a curse, and from there found an interest in lycanthropy. Truth be told, most werewolf movies were a bit tacky and cheesy, but she found them more entertaining than other classic horror tales. Dracula's supernatural charm had no chance against a well-executed metamorphosis. Give her the mental anguish of a man losing control of his own body and the madness of the animal within any day over the gross gore of a mindless zombie in a feeding frenzy.

 _Folk tales about werewolves abound in medieval Europe, especially during the height of the witch-hunts. Signs of a werewolf could be a lower than average brow, sharper or longer teeth, curved fingernails or low-set ears. Though the methods of becoming a werewolf were as varied as the symptoms, some were more widespread than others. The act of sleeping outside on a full moon night, or of drinking rainwater from a wolf's footprint could lead to lycanthropy, as would a pact with the devil, or wearing the pelt of the animal. Being bitten or scratched by a werewolf was also a possible way to become one, as was being cursed._

Billie sighed, wondering how the hell one would go about cursing someone to become a shape-shifter. Why make someone you hate more powerful? Most of these folk tales were superstitious nonsense to explain why the neighbor's boy suddenly got a patch of hair on his chest, or to serve as an excuse as to why some farmer would disappear once a month when he was really going to see his mistress two towns over. Too bad they didn't exist for real, it would make life much more interesting!

 _The characteristics and abilities most associated with werewolves are usually an immunity to damage caused by ordinary weapons, being vulnerable only to silver objects, such as a silver-tipped cane, bullet or blade; this attribute was first adopted cinematically in The Wolf Man in 1941. This negative reaction to silver is sometimes so strong that the mere touch of the metal on a werewolf's skin will cause burns. Another common belief about lycanthropy is that the power of the werewolf extends to human form, such as invulnerability to conventional injury due to their healing factor, super-human speed and strength and falling on their feet from high falls. Also aggressiveness and animalistic urges may be intensified and harder to control (hunger, sexual arousal)._

Billie almost laughed out loud in the quiet classroom. If these were the main symptoms, McCall could be a freaking werewolf! With his performances on the field and his anger issues, he would fit the bill, if a medieval Inquisitor ever came to town. That would be downright hilarious to see, Scotty 'Puppy-Eyes' McCall with fangs and claws and fur!

Clicking back to the page about the Beast of Gévaudan, Billie was looking for the link to another page when she saw the very same image that had been in Allison's book. The large, dark, looming form a a werewolf with red eyes. It was a fantastical drawing of the legends of the time, but it still tugged at Billie's mind. That picture reminded her of something. Still not sure how or when she could have seen something like it, Billie sent herself the page via email, just so she could get back to it at a later time.

* * *

"... And I will work this body I will burn this flame, Oh in the dead of night and in the pouring rain. Yeah I'm a workaholic and I swear I swear, One day I will beat you fair and square!"

Billie was singing at the top of her lungs, mopping the locker room floor tiles. The girls' lockers had taken her much longer than she anticipated. Who would think that a bunch of teenaged girls could be this gross and messy? The boys' locker room was almost pristine compared to the revolting state the girls' room. Billie had taken a long - and well-deserved - breather in her dad's office, making a note to ask for more cleaning products from the administration. Now she was dramatically dancing around the room, mop/dance partner in hand. After some - very spirited - 'Mamma Mia!' choreographies and a hardcore rendition of Nancy Sinatra's 'These Boots Are Made For Walking', she had moved on to the latest Walk The Moon song.

That was one advantage of working after hours. Billie had the whole school to herself and didn't have to fear any interruption by other students or staff members. No one to stare and laugh at her dance moves, no one to point out that she sang like a chipmunk with a laryngitis. As much as she loved her dad, Coach did not have a poker face and it showed when she sang around the house. He would cringe and tense all over, as one would when hearing nails on a blackboard. He would still tell her that she was amazing and his adorable peanut, but Billie tried to keep the impromptu karaoke sessions to a minimum around him lately.

Her mom would have been braying along as loudly as her. She loved to sing and made the Finstock house resonate with music from dawn to dusk. Billie was surprised to find the happy memory, deeply hidden in her messy mind, of both Finstock girls dancing around in the living room to the Rascals' Good Lovin playing on the stereo. Even more surprisingly, the memory did not make her want to curl up in a ball and cry, which often happened when she thought about her mother. This was just a purely happy memory that held no bitterness or pain. Just happiness and music.

The playlist stopped at the end of the song, causing silence to fall upon the empty locker room. Billie was never good with complete silence. It always felt heavy, laden with unsaid things, unhappy things, or simply void of any life. The girl was never without her music and headphones for a good reason. She pulled her cell and went to start another playlist, but the school intercom suddenly crackled to life above her head. There were muffled voices and then a high pitched wail that sounded like a pained kitten.

Billie stood, holding the mop tightly, her jaw clenching and unclenching spasmodically. Those voices she'd heard. She knew them. She knew those two boys. Those two idiots. She could easily put names on them. McCall and Stilinski. Any trace of joy now erased off her face, replaced by righteous anger at the idea of those two bozos chilling in the school after hours, Billie dropped the mop and began marching down the corridor to the administrative office. She would give them a piece of her mind, alright!

On her way to the office, she heard them again over the intercom. This time though, there was a deafening, primal roar that resonated throughout the school building and that made her block her ears until it was over. _What the HELL was that?_ Now fuming, Billie stomped to the office, ready to tear her stupid, immature friends apart ...

* * *

 **Dun dun DUNNN! We all know what's coming, and how the hell is our dear Finstock Jr going to handle it?**

 **Until next time, feel free to review, you know it makes my day!**


	9. Fright Night

**A/N: So here we are. This - adrenaline filled - episode that I've been dreading. It took me a little while to get started on it, and on top of that, my laptop - also known as Black Beauty - has been ill with a dreadful virus that keeps Chrome from opening at all and I could only write while at work (which is highly discouraged, if you can imagine such a thing) or - as I'm doing now - on my mum's laptop, old Blue Steel. Let's send some thoughts and prayers and general good vibes to my Black Beauty before she goes under for a complete reformatting!  
**

 **Just because it's tradition: I own nothing of what I might refer to, movies, books, series, music, whatever else ... Just Billie!**

 **Alright, enough dawdling, on to the story!**

* * *

Billie was power-walking down the darkened corridor, on her way to the adminitration offices, huffing like a bull. These two boys had been running her ragged lately, and she'd had enough. First McCall makes a dramatic entrace on first line, then he gets stage fright, then it's anger issues, then the pair of them start scheming some ludicrous and potentially dangerous shenanigans behind everybody's back, then they use her for her assistant-coach perks, they keep her in the dark all the same, and now they risk getting themselves in big trouble by trespassing on school grounds at night to do god-knows-what! She would get to them before anyone of the night staff and she would pull the both of them out of there and back to their homes by their ears if she had to.

On her way to the main corridor, Billie heard a loud crashing noise. A broken window. _Did the idiots really break a freaking window?!_ She turned back, her boots squeaking against the linoleum floor, and ran in the direction the noise had come from. She rounded a corner and slowed down when she saw an open classroom door. That was unusual, all the doors had to be closed at night, in case there was a fire. It was one of the safety regulations the principal had gone over when she'd been hired. Never leave open doors behind you. Billie tiptoed to the door and peered inside. In the darkened room she could fairly easily see the broken window, the jagged pieces of glass littering the floor, and a large, black square object on the floor. She walked to it, her heart beginning to beat faster in her chest for no sane reason, and she saw it was a car battery. A sudden sense of fear and dread came over her and Billie backed out of the room carefully. _A car battery? Someone threw a car battery through a freaking window?!_ Billie began walking back towards the locker rooms, unease settling over her like a heavy cloak. _What was going on? Who would break a window with a car battery? Where the Hell were the two idiots now?_ Screw this, she was mostly done with her job, she would call it a night and go home. She just needed to get her stuff from her dad's office.

Billie was almost at the boys' locker room door when she heard something on the other side. Voices. The two annoying voices she'd been searching for minutes ago. She released a pent up breath. Being alone in the school tonight was getting on her nerves, especially if there was someone vandalizing the place. She heard some shuffling and locker doors opening and shutting as she came to the door and opened it to find the empty locker room, just as she had left it. Almost. Billie quickly grabbed her cell and speaker and began looking at the closed lockers. _They could not be this stupid, could they?_ She spotted a tiny sliver of light coming from the slits of one door. Yes, they very much were _this_ stupid. Holding up an exasperated sigh, she inched closer to the door, grabbed the handle and opened it like a gunshot. She found herself face to face with a terrified looking Stilinski while McCall tumbled out of the locker right behind them.

"Shit, shit!"

"What the freaking hell, you two!?"

Scott was trying to get her to keep her voice down.

"Quiet, quiet Billie."

"Quiet? Why d'you want me to be quiet, McCall? Oh wait, because you boys shouldn't be here and you're afraid of getting caught, isn't that right?"

They kept whispering furiously for her to shut up and listen, but she was having none of it.

"Alright, I've had enough of you two. I'm on my way out and you better be following me. I will keep my mouth shut about tonight, but after that, don't count on me again to get you out of trouble with Coach, to help you with anything, or even to laugh at your stupid jokes, are we clear?"

Stiles, in a panic, put his hand on her mouth to shush her up.

"Listen Billie, there is someone else inside the school. Someone we really don't want to meet so if you could shut up and avoid getting his attention, that'd be great."

Billie's eyes almost popped out of her head at that. _Someone else? Someone who had thrown a car battery though a window maybe? Someone who scared the boys enough for them to break into the school to hide?_ Again, the word 'gang' flashed before her eyes, just like the flashlight Stilinski was holding haphazrdly. He let go of her and she began whispering furiously along with them, picking up her sports bag on the nearest bench.

"What the hell d'you mean 'someone else'? If there's someone in the school, we should call your dad, Stiles ..."

The gangly boy began shaking his head negatively, but before he could answer her, another flashlight blinded them.

"What are you kids doing here?"

The night janitor was standing in the doorway, looking very put out at the sight of two boys and a girl hiding in the locker room at night.

"All of you get out."

Stiles and Billie tried to argue with the man.

"Sir, I'm working here, if you could please ..."

"Just listen for half a second, okay?"

He wasn't to be budged.

"Not okay! Get the hell outta here right now."

He began pushing them out of the locker room, not bothering for a second that Billie was asking about her jacket and backpack, still in Coach's office. As soon as they were out the door, however, the man was pulled back inside the room and the locker door was violently closed. The three of them jumped back, Billie letting out a little yelp when the man's silhouette slammed back into the frosted window, spattering blood on it as well. The janitor screamed and was pulled back again, and Billie could only stand frozen in place as Scott tried to open the door to help the man. Stiles pulled him off the door handle and they began to run in the corridor, both catching one of her hands to pull her along.

The three of them ran through the darkened corridors, Billie soon pulling the boys by the arm. She steered them towards the nearest emergency exit, behind the pool. Scott and Stiles rammed into the double doors, but they wouldn't open.

"What the hell?"

They tried again, Finstock Jr adding her own weight to help, but nothing moved. Something was blocking the exit. Scott managed to sneak a peek outside.

"It's a dumpster."

"He pushed it in front of the door."

"To lock us in."

Stiles pushed harder and harder against the door, working himself up in panic.

"Come on, help me!"

Scott pulled him back by the shoulders and they turned around and ran again. Billie was beside herself. Being trapped in the school at night by someone who clearly had ill intents was not on her bucket list. She kept walking with the boys, her eyes darting left and right frantically, seeing shapes and menacing shadows everywhere. Stiles was panicking next to her, his hand still holding onto hers for dear life.

"I'm not dying here, I'm not dying at school!"

"We're not goin' to die!"

They were veering into the math corridor with all its windows. Billie suddenly felt exposed, shivers running up and down her back non-stop.

"What are we doing? What does it want?"

"Me! Derek says it's stronger with a pack."

"Great! A psychotic ... _psycho_ who's into teamwork. That's ... that's beautiful."

Scott quirked up an eyebrow at Stiles, who very unsubtly nudged his head in her direction. Billie couldn't believe it. They were running for their lives at the moment, very obviously because of one of them, and they still were trying to keep things from her! She glared at them, until she noticed how Scott was not paying any attention to her at all, but was focused on something out the window. Stiles and Billie looked out, and they saw.

Right there.

Behind a chimney.

Something.

 _Something._

Not someone. Something.

A dark looming shape, an animal face, and red, glowing eyes. A scream froze in Billie's throat, no air coming in or out of her. Then it began moving. It was dreadfully fast, a blur of black against the night sky, hurdling towards them. The boys turned around and ran, Stiles still pulling her by the hand. There was a deafening crash behind them and Billie squinted her eyes shut against the temptation to look behind her shoulder. The thing, whatever it was, was running after them, growling loudly. They ran as fast as their legs could go, and faster even. Billie led them on the right, to an unlocked door, and down a flight of steps to the lower level.

Thanking all the saints in heaven that she knew the school well, Billie took the boys down into the basement. Her palms were getting sweaty and she let go of Stiles' hand to wipe them on her skirt. _Why in the name of all that was holy did she chose today to put a skirt on?_ The air was thick with steam and the place was littered with old, disused lockers and broken desks and chairs. The resemblance with the boiler room from Nightmare On Elm Street was not lost on her, and part of her brain was yelling at her to get the hell out of there before an undead creep with a burnt face and razor fingers jumped them. Suddenly Billie had a newfound respect for the dumb kids in horror movies. Sometimes you couldn't think clearly when you were being chased.

Scott was bringing up the rear, looking around a corner to see if they'd lost it. By the frightened look he gave them, they hadn't. They took another turn in the maze of decrepid school furniture, jumping back and looking everywhere around them at the slightest noise. Stiles' hushed voice right next to her made her jump.

"Alright we have to do something..."

"What?"

"I dunno, kill it, hurt it, inflict mental anguish on it, something."

Scott backed into a metal door, which made the three of them jump. Stiles suddenly went very still, staring inside the small room beyond it. That usually meant he had an idea, which normally meant nothing good, but for once, Billie was glad to see this look on him. He began palming his keys in his jacket pocket. The small tinkling noise brought a growl from the darkness in front of them. Scott tried to stop him, but his best friend shushed him right out. They could see the thing's shadow on a wall. It was right there, around that corner. Billie could feel nothing except for her heart beating like an out of tune jazz player. Stiles pulled out his keys and tossed them into the room in one slick movement. All at once, the thing ran to the sound and entered the room. Scott had pushed Billie back and Stiles pushed the door closed.

"The desk! Come on, the desk!"

Billie and Scott pushed an old teacher's desk in front of the door to block it. The door was pushed back, but it couldn't open at all. The trio looked at each other with the beginnings of smiles on their faces. They had locked it in. But Billie was far from at ease. Was had _it_ been? Scott crossed over the desk and Stiles bent forward near the door, but his best friend stopped him, pulling him back by his collar.

"What're you doing?"

"I just wanna get a look at it."

Both Billie and Scott exclaimed themselves.

"Are you crazy?"

Stiles gave the pair an unimpressed look.

"Look it's trapped, okay? It's not gonna get out."

As much as his friends hated the sight of him bending forward, Stiles paid no mind to their warning. Bilie was standing right behind Scott, holding onto his leather jacket. The buzz-cut boy was on his knees on the desk, his face almost pressed up against the tiny glass window.

"Yeah that's right, we got you ..."

Scott couldn't keep it in.

"Shut up!"

Stiles glanced at him for just a second.

"I'm not scared of this thing..."

The thing rammed into the door at that precise moment and growled. Stiles fell off the table, limbs flailing in typical Stilinski fashion and he stood back, right next to Scott. Billie had begun backing up in the direction of the stairwell. She had that uneasy feeling again. Meanwhile, Stilies - suddenly feeling bolder - decided to taunt the thing.

"I'm not scared of you! Arlight, 'cause you're in there and we're out here. You're not going anywhe..."

They all heard the loud crashing noise, soon followed by heavy scratching noises in the suspended ceiling. Both boys looked up, still standing immobile. The ceiling tiles were very obviously bending under the thing's weight as it moved freely. Billie, now scared out of her wits, kept walking backwards toward the stairs and soon the boys followed her, the trio running again.

There was no way of knowing where it was now, or to avoid it. Billie hadn't been on the verge of tears in a long while, but right now she could feel her eyes misting over and her breath come in erratic gulps. Stiles was holding her hand again, squeezing it from time to time, his other hand manning the flashlight. Scott stopped them in their tracks.

"Wait! D'you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"It sounds like a phone ringing."

Stiles did not seem happy to hear that.

"What!"

Scott's face suddenly lit up with recognition.

"I know that ring! It's Allison's phone."

Billie stared at the shaggy-haired boy in disbelief.

"I don't hear anything. Stiles, do you?"

Both boys looked at each other, clearly embarrassed.

"Well not really ... I mean, I might have heard something, but my hearing isn't ... Scott's got a good ear, you know. And it's his girlfriend's ringtone, I'm sure he's like ... atuned to it, right?"

He was fumbling with his words as they were walking back, much faster now that Scott thought his girlfriend was in the school. Scott asked Stiles for his phone and began to frantically call Allison's phone. His tense shoulders eased down a smidge when she answered.

 _"Stiles?"_

"No it's me, where are you?"

 _"I'm in the school looking for you, why weren't you at my place?"_

He didn't let her finish.

"Where are you right now?"

 _"On the first floor ..."_

His voice was tense with worry and his tone was sharp. Billie had never heard Scott's voice like that before.

"Where? Where are you exactly?"

 _" ... The swimming pools?"_

"Get to the lobby. Go now."

 _"Okay, okay. I'm coming."_

She hung up. The trio picked up the pace, going as fast as they dared while still being on the lookout for whatever it was that had been after them. They barreled through the doors to the lobby and Scott let out a relieved sigh when he saw Allison.

"Why did you come, what are you doing here?"

Allison stared at him in disbelief.

"Because you asked me to."

"I asked you to?"

She showed him her phone, with a text that - sure enough - asked her to meet him at the school. Scott stared back at her, incredulous, and the Argent girl began to squirm under his look.

"Why do I get the feeling that you didn't send this?"

"Because I didn't."

Stiles interjected, the nerves making his voice louder and tenser than usual.

"Did you drive here?"

"Jackson did."

Both boys sighed, somewhere between exasperation and horror.

"Jackson's here?"

Allison was getting worried as well.

"And Lydia, what's going on? Who sent this text?"

Her phone rang again in her hand.

"Where are you?"

Just as she spoke, the other set of doors opened to let Lydia and Jackass Whittemore through. Lydia looked at the group and sighed, pocketing back her phone.

"Finally. Can we go now?"

Allison nodded just as a loud boom was heard above their heads. Everybody looked up, hearing the disturbing noises in the ceiling. Billie had trouble swallowing around the lump of terror stuck in her throat. Would this nightmare never end? She wasn't alone anymore, but the fact that they were now six instead of three did nothing to calm her or better her survival chances. Scott took his girlfriend by the hand and issued a one-word order.

"Run!"

They all ran away just as the ceiling was giving way under the weight of the Thing. It dashed after them, growling right behind the group, hunting them like prey. They darted through the darkened hallways and barreled into the cafeteria. As soon as Scott had closed the doors, he and Jackson set to work trying to block them with a barricade of chairs that wouldn't hold up to Coach on a coffee-less morning, while Allison and Lydia were panicking in a corner, the former asking repeatedly what had been chasing them. As much as she wanted to know the answer to that question herself, Billie thought now was not the best time to play twenty questions!

She stood near Stiles, who was trying to get everyone's attention, but they were too focused on desperately trying to keep the creature out. Billie was standing behind him again, finding a sliver of comfort in his proximity and holding onto his arm.

"Guys? Can we just wait a second?"

The sound of chairs scraping was his only answer.

"You guys, listen to me, we ..."

No one listened.

"Wa-wait a second?"

They were stacking them up now.

"Guys?"

Nothing.

"Stiles - talking?"

Billie pulled him by the arm, heading for the other end of the large empty room, that damn feeling making her grow cold all over.

"Can we hang on one second please?"

He shook her off and gave her an unimpressed look before turning around.

"HELLO!"

The others all stopped and turned around to face him with frightened faces. He spoke up again in a calm, composed and - very - sarcastic tone.

"Okay, nice work. Really beautiful job everyone. Now, what should we do about the twenty-foot wall of windows?"

He gestured dramatically to the wall next to him and its many windows. Jackson had the decency to look a bit sheepish, but Allison started rambling again. Billie was getting just a tad annoyed at the girl right now. She was just as terrified as Argent, but staying alive was more important than asking a barrage of questions that no one knew the answer to.

"Could somebody please explain to me what is going on here because I'm freaking out and I'd like to know why ..."

She panted and looked at Scott as if he could answer everything and make the monsters go away.

"Scott?"

The boy ran from her side and all the others began eyeing him suspiciously, as if it was his fault they were all stuck there with ... something ... lurking, hunting them. Scott was visibly panicking as well, not looking at anyone and shaking his head, and Stiles spoke up, taking the heat off his best friend's shoulders.

"Somebody killed the janitor."

Lydia let out an incredulous 'what' and looked directly to Billie for the first time tonight. The black-haired girl nodded solemnly.

"Yeah, the janitor's dead. We saw it."

Argent couldn't believe it and still looked to her boyfriend like he knew everything.

"What are they talking about, is this a joke?"

"Who killed him?"

Jackson was looking eagerly at them, hoping for an answer. Lydia began freaking out as well.

"No no no no no, this-this was supposed to be over, the mountain lion ..."

"Don't you get it? There wasn't a mountain lion."

"Who was it?! What does he want? What's happening?"

Again with the pointless questions! Billie was slowly getting back to her senses by sheer annoyance at the girl's theatrics. She was acting like the dumb girl in every single bad 80's slasher movie ever made. Next she might go running around and conveniently fall in front of the killer. Finstock Jr had to keep herself from chuckling at that thought. She couldn't keep from mumbling under her breath, however.

"It can want a freaking autralian pony for all I care, as long as I can stay alive."

"SCOTT!"

That got him out of his dread-induced pity-party.

"I-Idon't know! I-I-I just ... If we go out there he's gonna kill us."

"Us? He's gonna kill us?"

"Who? Who is it?"

Allison had turned to Stiles, who looked just as lost as Scott. Neither of them knew, that was plain to see. How could she not see it? The silence stretched, tense and uncomfortable. Billie didn't dare make a sound again, afraid of what the ruckus they were already making might attract.

"It's Derek, it's Derek Hale."

Scott's voice made her jump. Jackson was the first to question that insane statement, but Billie was pretty certain that it was an outright lie from Scott, just to stop all the questions flying his way. Yet she remembered the creepy vibe she'd gotten from Derek Hale on the night of the party. He'd been strange, and he definitely had been identified as a person of interest in his sister's murder. But then again, something didn't stick.

"Are you sure?"

"I saw him!"

"The mountain lion ..."

"No! Derek killed them!"

"All of them?"

"Yes, starting with his own sister."

"And the bus driver ...?"

"... And the guy in the video store, it's been Derek the whole time! He's in here with us."

Lydia and Allison looked distraught, Jakson looked shocked, but Stiles, still standing right next to her, looked nothing short of resigned. Billie glanced up at him from the corner of her eyes as he stared at his best friend in the middle of his diatribe. That was quite a lot they were lumping on the same guy's back. Then again, psychopaths were not known for their abstention and temperance. Billie had known Scott had been involved with the attacks. She'd heard them talking about it. She hadn't wanted to make a connection, especially since everyone thought these were random animal attacks, but now ...

Now it made more sense.

Scott was involved with this creepy Derek dude for whatever reason - once again, the word 'gang' dinged in her head, like the right answer on a TVgame show - and he had been involved in the attacks to a certain degree - whether he'd only known who did it or if he took part in it, that was another question entirely. But now, Derek was tying up loose ends, and that included the shaggy-haired boy in front of them, and potentially all of them as well because, well ... psycho!

"And if we don't get out now, he's going to kill us too."

The stunned silence stretched between them like taffy. Billie's mind was replaying everything she'd heard in the last weeks and was playing a gigantic game of connect the dots, but the drawing at the end seemed too gruesome for her to want to finish it. But then again, something didn't feel right. The authorities had been so certain it was an animal. That thing that had been after them, it was most certainly an animal. There was nothing human about the four-legged, growling beast with glowing red eyes she'd seen on the roof before it started chasing after them. With those attributes, it had more in common with Allison's Beast of Gévaudan legend than with a deranged individual, no matter how savage.

"Call the cops."

Jackson's suggestion was the first sane thing she'd heard all night, and it had to come from him! Stiles' refusal was anything but sane in her eyes. But hadn't she suggested they call the Sheriff earlier? And he'd been about to tell her not to when they were found by the janitor ...

"What d'you mean, no?"

"I mean no, you wanna hear it in Spanish? _¡No!_ Look Derek killed three people, okay. We don't know what he's armed with."

"Your dad is armed with an entire Sheriff's department. Call him!"

Lydia pulled out her phone, insisting that she'd call.

"No. Lydia, would you just hold on a sec' ..."

Jackson pushed the buzz-cut boy out of the way, just as someone picked up the phone at the Sheriff station dispatch.

"Yes, we're at Beacon Hills High School. We're trapped and we need you to ... but ... She hung up on me."

Allison kept questionning everything, drawing an eyeroll from Billie.

"The police hung up on you?"

"She said they got a tip warning that there were gonna be prank calls about a break in at the high school. She said if I called again that they're gonna trace it and have me arrested."

"Okay then call again!"

Stiles cut off Allison's order. Unlike the others, he seemed calm. He knew how the Sheriff's department worked better than any one of them.

"No they won't trace a cell. And they'll send a car to your house before they send anyone here."

Scott's girlfriend was getting nearer to her inevitable meltdown, running her hands over her face, her voice getting shrillier by the syllable.

"What the ... What ... What is this? ... Why does Derek wanna kill us? Why is he killing anyone?"

Billie couldn't hold it in any longer.

"Ever heard of psychopaths, Argent? He doesn't need a reason. He'll make up one in his twisted little mind and that'll be that."

There was another tense silence, where all eyes turned to Scott. McCall had already proved that he knew more than he should by telling them about Derek Hale. They were expecting him to unravel everything to them now. Billie was chewing her thumb anxiously, not remembering when she let go of Stiles to bring her hand to her mouth. Stilinski sighed, looking to his best friend. Scott stared back at them, looking guilty and scared.

"Why is everyone looking at me?"

Lydia, even in her terrified state, tried to remain rational.

"Is he the one that sent her the text?"

"No! I mean ... I-I I don't know ..."

"Is he the one that called the police?"

"I don't KNOW!"

Allison turned away from him, looking dejected. Billie huffed. The girl's delicate sensibilities were too much to handle right now, especially when they were all under threat from a bloody freaking serial killer on the loose. Stiles took Scott away from the group and the boys began whispering together while Lydia was huddling closer to her boyfriend and Allison still pouted. After only a minute, Jackson lost his patience.

"Okay, assheads! New plan. Stiles calls his useless dad, tells him to send us someone with a gun and a decent aim. Are we good with that?"

Billie could see Stiles was struggling, shaking his head left and right, but this time even Scott was not on his friend's side.

"He's right. Tell him the truth if you have to, just ... just call him."

Stiles mumbled something to Scott, but Jackson launched himself at the skinny boy.

"Alright, gimme the phone!"

But then Stiles just turned around an punched Jackson straight in the face. Whittemore stumbled back, and Allison ran to him, asking if he was okay. Lydia hadn't moved from her spot, and even Scott looked back and forth between Stiles and Whittemore on the ground. Allison threw the boys an outraged glare. Billie stared at her childhood friend with a newfound respect. He pulled out his phone and called Mr S.

"Dad, hey it's me. Aaand it's your voicemail. Look I need you to call me back, now. Like, right now."

The double doors began shaking suddenly, the thing - no, the killer - right behind it, trying to get in. Everyone backed up, and Billie could feel her heart going back to its fierce drum beat as Stiles was ending the phone call with his dad's voicemail with the same calm and serious voice he'd been using up until now. How he kept his cool in this situation, she couldn't fathom, but she was glad for it. If Spazz-tastic Stilinski could remain calm, then so could she.

"We're at the school, dad. We're at the school."

The doors were gonna break soon. Billie's voice rang out, and it sounded foreign to her own ears right now.

"The kitchen, the door out in the kitchen leads to the stairwell."

"Which only goes up!"

She began backing up that way. Even in the dark, Billie knew her way around the cafeteria, after all the volunteering she'd done to raise money for the different school teams. She even got extra dessert from the lunch ladies from time to time. She looked to Scott and the others, who hadn't moved. Stiles nodded to her and followed, talking over his shoulder.

"Up is better than here!"

The others followed them. They all ran up the stairs, then dashed through the dark science corridor, trying every door, until Lydia found one of the Chemistry classes was open. The group barged in and they closed the door right behind them, blocking it with a chair. They all stayed silent and still, hearing the sounds coming from the hallway. Grunts and growls and something heavy walking. Again, something was tugging at Billie's mind. Those were animal sounds, not the step of a very human serial killer. Something was far from right in Scott's narrative. But now was not the time to think about it. The hair at the nape of her neck were rising and she could feel her flesh growing goosebumps. Whatever - whoever - it was behind that door, it gave her the creeps in a new and uncomfortable way. It was as if she knew that he knew she was there, as if she knew she could not hide. She felt cornered, hunted, like a rabbit that smells the fox coming its way.

As soon as the presence was gone, Scott bent forward and asked Jackson how many could fit in his car.

"Five if someone squeezes on someone's lap."

Allison cut him off.

"Five? I barely fit in the back!"

"And there's six of us. I can't fold myself into Whittemore's trunk, guys."

"It doesn't matter. There's no getting out without drawing attention."

"What about this?"

Scott went to the emergency exit.

"This leads to the roof. We can go down the fire escape to the parking lot in like seconds."

"That's a deadbolt."

Scott sighed, defeated, until his eyes almost bulged out with a sudden realisation.

"The janitor has a key!"

"You mean his body has it ..."

Billie heard only one word out of every four or five, but when Scott mentioned a key, her mind went back to her dad's office, to the jacket she'd discarded on the desk, to the set of keys in its pocket. The others had begun arguing in hushed voices about McCall's plan to go get the dead janitor's keys. Billie chimed in.

"No. Scott, there's another set of keys that can open that door. Mine."

Jackson, Lydia and Stiles all looked at her in stunned silence. Allison had begun blubbering at Scott that he couldn't go, he couldn't leave them alone, he might die. Scott was only half-listening to her, his eyes shifting to Billie.

"My set can open this door. All the scool's emergency exits work with the same skeleton keys, I have one copy on my keychain."

Jackson almost exploded right then, although he had the decency to do so quietly.

"Finstock, you have a key? And you didn't think to mention it before now? What's wrong wi..."

Lydia cut him short with a sharp elbow to the ribs.

"I don't have it with me, you moron! I left it with the rest of my stuff. It's in Coach's office, in my jacket pocket."

Scott looked at her as if she'd suddenly given him a Lamborghini for free.

"Are you sure that's where they are, Billie?"

She nodded.

"Positive McCall. I was on my way to pick my stuff up and leave when I found you two."

Stiles blushed slightly at the mention of their game of hide-n-seek in the lockers. Scott nodded decisively, clearly relieved that he didn't have to go looting a dead body. The others were breathing a bit easier as well around her. Only Allison still couldn't get with the program.

"Scott, you can't go out there unarmed."

Scott picked up a teacher's pointer. Stiles rolled his eyes.

"There's gotta be something else."

"There is."

Lydia pointed to the glass cabinet that housed all the volatile chemicals they used in class.

"What're we gonna do, throw acid on him?"

"No, like a firebomb. In there is everything you need to make a self-igniting Molotov cocktail."

The whole Scooby Gang looked at her, incredulous.

"Self-igniting ..."

Lydia cut Stiles off, repeating what she'd just said in a slow, deliberate voice, as if she was tutoring a slow kid in math.

"... Molotov cocktail. What? I read it somewhere."

Billie blinked for a second, still impressed by the inspired idea the redhead had put forth.

"We don't have a key for that either."

Jackson made quick work of that observation, shoving his leather-clad elbow through the glass. Lydia went to work immediately, her panic receding now that she had something to focus on, a problem to solve. They all watched her work in awed silence.

"Jackson hand me the sulfuric acid."

While Whittemore was picking up the bottle and handing it to his girlfriend, Billie let out a pent up breath between her teeth.

"Seriously, Lydia, a much as I hate being stuck here, I'm glad you're here as well. Else we might all be in trouble. Big time."

The corners of Lydia's mouth quirked up and she gave the erlenmeyer one last shake before handing it to Scott. And right when they were ready for this, Allison began rambling again. Billie audibly groaned at the sound of the brown-haired girl arguing.

"No. No this is insane. You can't do this, you cannot go out there."

"We can't just sit and wait for Stiles' dad to check his messages."

"You could die. Don't you get that? He's killed three people ..."

"And we're next. Somebody has to do something."

Scott moved towards the door, but Allison came to stand in front of him, tears pooling in her eyes.

"Just ... stop. D'you remember ... you remember when you told me you knew wether or not I was lying, that I had a tell? So do you ... You're a horrible liar, and you've been lying all night."

Scott shook his head softly. Allison was crying in earnest now, making everyone else in the room uncomfortable.

"Just, please don't go ... Please don't leave us. Please."

Scott headed for the door, telling them to lock it behind him, when the Argent girl pulled him in for a desperate kiss. He detangled himself from her embrace and walked to the door again. The second time, however, it was Billie who stopped him, a hand on his forearm.

"McCall, maybe I should go with you. Two against one is better odds, no?"

The shaggy-haired boy shook his head.

"No. You stay with them ..."

"Okay but ... Maybe we're looking at it the wrong way. What if we made a loud diversion, like on the other side of the school,the others could get out and..."

Scott put a hand on her shoulder, trying to be the reassuring friend.

"Billie, let me try okay? If I'm not back with the keys in 20 minutes, you do your best, alright?"

She nodded, biting the inside of her cheek to keep the arguments inside.

"20 minutes. Then I start running around the school bumping lockers and singing 'The Pina Colada Song' at the top of my lungs."

Scott and Stiles chuckled at that, and with a last nod, McCall was out the door.

As soon as he was outside, Billie locked the door behind him and sat herself down on the floor, her back resting on the door. She looked up to the others around her, all wearing fear on their faces. She huffed. Tonight felt like a nightmare from which she just couldn't wake up. First there was someone vandalizing the school while she was there, very much alone, at night, then the boys and her were being chased by some creature that made no sense to her, then the rest of them were lured inside the school by a supposed serial killer who apparently wanted them all dead, or at least Scott. Billie thought again about her set of keys, foolishly left in her dad's office. If only she hadn't been distracted by the boys, if only she'd gone and picked up her stuff right away ...

Allison's voice cut through Billie's thoughts like a very unwelcome knife.

"I don't get this. I don't get why he's out there, why he left us and I can't ... I can't stop my hands from shaking."

 _Oh goody, now the basic white girl needs a valium? Or maybe she's more of a percocet kind of girl?_

Jackson, of all people, put his own hands over hers to calm her down.

"It's okay. I'ts okay, it's gonna be okay."

Lydia's bulging eyes and betrayed expression did not go unnoticed by Finstock, who simply kept grinding her teeth to keep herself from spewing every unkind thought that came to her. _She's just scared, just like every one of us, being mean to her won't do any good ... But the rest of us are remaining calm while she's a complete crying mess! ... She's not used to be under stress ... She's a pampered little princess who can't handle shit! ..._ Billie's thoughts kept raging back and forth, the mean and hostile voice getting louder and quickly drowning out the other one.

"Jackson you handed me the sulfuric acid, right?"

Lydia's soft voice, suddenly tinted with doubt, made Billie look up in worry.

"It has to be sulfuric acid, it won't ignite if it's not..."

"Look I gave you exactly what you asked for, didn't I?"

Lydia backed gently away from her boyfriend and his threatening voice.

"Yeah. Yeah I'm sure you did."

No matter what the redhead said, Billie's and Stiles' and her eyes turned back to the unused brown bottle on the table.

All of a sudden, Billie Finstock heard something. Another deafening roar, almost identical to the one she'd heard, much earlier tonight, when the boys were messing with the intercom system. Every hair on her body rose at the sound. It felt just like she'd been feeling all night, except much, much stronger. She tensed all over, unblinking and stiff as a board, every muscle in her body taut and ready to jump. Jump at what, she didn't know. But it sure seemed her body did.

The others didn't appear to notice anything, except maybe Lydia, who shook her ear for a second. Whittemore, however, had a much bigger reaction. He fell to the floor, clutching the back of his neck in obvious pain, landing right in front of her rigidly crossed legs. He screamed. The girls bent down to pick him up and he desperately tried to shrug them off.

"No I'm fine ... Seriously, I'm okay."

"That didn't sound okay at all."

Billie, now getting back in control of her motor functions, appreciated that this was the first time Allison said something remotely sensible tonight. But the athletic girl was still very shaken, even if she was less dramatic than Allison or Jackson. What had just happened to her? It had felt as if her whole body wasn't hers anymore. She'd been incapable of moving a muscle of her own volition, as if petrified by fear. Like a deer in the headlights.

"What's on the back of your neck?"

Jackson swatted Stilinski away aggressively, still panting. Billie Finstock tried to focus on taking deep, slow breaths. _In through the nose, out though the mouth. Inhale. Exhale. Slowly, slowly._ She shifted on the ground, hugging herself. Stiles looked down to her and his eyes filled with all kinds of remorse at the sight of his fearless friend, Billie 'Braver-Than-Brave' Finstock, looking small and forlorn on the floor of a Chemistry class. Scott had been right, they shouldn't have involved her in this. Even though he had to admit that she'd been involved by accident tonight, it was wrong to have her here with them, risking her life and not knowing why. Stiles clenched his jaw and swore that he would, from now on, make sure the only girl to ever be his friend stayed safe and as far away from any werewolf business as possible.

Jackson and Lydia kept arguing over his health, and everything else that didn't work between them, their voices fading in and out of the background of Billie's whirling mind.

"... won't tell me what happened."

"As if you actually cared!"

While the others' attention was focused on the bickering couple, Billie suddenly felt the hairs on the back of her neck raising again, the prickly feeling sending nasty shivers up and down her back. She sat up, ramrod straight, and turned her head towards Stiles, her ear only an inch away from the door. Something was near. She could hear muffled footsteps in the corridor outside. Heavy breathing. She could feel her own heart thumping wildly, ready to jump out of her chest at the thought that it might be the killer they'd been trying to escape from. _Or it might be Scott._ Maybe McCall was coming back. A soft metallic click. Someone was trying to open the door. _It had to be Scott. It had to be him._ The lock clicked.

"Alright, can we not argue for half a second here?"

"Where's Scott he should be back by now ..."

Billie, still staring ahead, frozen in her spot, heard Stiles speak in a low voice.

"It's only been 10 minutes. He said to give him 20 before we do anything."

"Shh, guys I hear something ..."

Her voice, low and barely passing through her gritted teeth, made Stiles and Allison look down to her again. Before any of them had a chance to say anything else, there was an audible metallic noise at the door. Allison whirled, calling out to Scott, and tried to open the door, becoming frantic again. Stiles pulled Billie up before she could even move herself, helping her avoid Allison's heeled boots. Her hand found his again, and he was shocked to feel how cold hers was. Billie's fingers were like tiny icicles in his palm. Allison was now banging against the door, screaming Scott's name repeatedly. Lydia tried to calm her friend, to no avail.

"Stop. Stop. STOP! ... D'you hear that?"

Everyone held their breath, trying to hear what Lydia was hearing.

"Listen."

Police sirens.

Allison, Jackson and Lydia ran to the windows, Stiles following them and pulling Billie along with him. She could hardly believe it. There were at least three police cars puling up next to Stiles' battered Jeep, lights blazing. The group let out a collective sigh of relief.

* * *

As she got out of the school, shouldered between Scott and Stiles, who now refused to let her out of his sight, Billie darted her eyes all around the shadowed parking lot as Scott was talking with Mr S.

"You're sure it was Derek Hale?"

"Yes ..."

"I saw him too."

"What about the janitor?"

Mr Stilinski spoke in a low voice, aware that he shouldn't be telling these kids about the investigation details.

"We're still looking."

Scott insisted as the group walked down the steps outside the main entrance.

"D'you check under the bleachers? Under them ..."

"Yeah Scott, we looked. We pulled'em out, just like you asked. There's nothing."

"I'm not making this up ..."

"I know, I believe you. I do."

"You don't! You have this look like ... you feel bad for me, like you wana believe me but I know you don't."

The shaggy-haired boy hung his head, distraught. Billie chimed in.

"I saw it too, Mr S. The screaming, the blood. It wasn't a prank or anything like that, I swear."

Stiles' dad looked to her with sympathy, then his eyes went back to Scott.

"Listen, we're gonna search this whole school. We're gonna find him, okay? I promise."

One of the deputies called for the Sheriff. They looked over to the tape-line that had just been installed, only to see Bobby Finstock jumping out of his car and almost barreling through the line of Sheriff's deputies in front of him. Mr Stilinski took Billie by the shoulder and steered her towards her dad, looking behind him at his own son and his friend.

"Stay, both of you."

They walked out to her dad, who was the picture of parental worry if there ever was one. His hair sticking up at all angles, nostrils flaring like a bull, eyes bulging out of his head and arms flailing in a display that could have eclipsed even Stilinski himself. Billie noticed how Mr S was pushing her forward, almost propping her up like a shield in front of him. She could have laughed, had she not been exhausted and almost sick with the night's emotions all jumbled up inside her.

"Peanut?! Billie-sweetie, are you okay?"

She could hear him calling out to her, and suddenly, the last hours of high-adrenaline and emotions all came rushing out. Tears began pooling in Billie's eyes, then they flowed freely on her cheeks as she ran to her dad and hugged him in a back-breaking embrace, which he returned gladly. She didn't give a damn that almost all of the county's sheriff's department was there, or that Whittemore would make fun of her for that at the next Lacrosse practice, or that she was making a scene. That hug made her feel safe.

* * *

Back at home, after a long cry and an even longer, Peach-scented bubble bath, Billie was curled up on the sofa right next to Bobby Finstock. He had an arm slung over her shoulders, as if he wanted to keep a constant physical contact with her, just to reassure himself that she was safe. The 'Call The Midwife' episode cut to commercials, and when one came on for mountain climbing equipment, the mountain lion on screen almost made Billie jump.

"They say it was Derek Hale, that he murdered all these people and made it look like animal attacks ..."

Coach Finstock sounded surprised by this.

"Derek Hale? Really? Wow, just goes to show you never know someone ..."

Billie looked up to him.

"How come? You knew him as a student, I guess?"

Bobby shook his head, looking down to his daughter.

"You don't remember him, do you?"

"No. Should I?"

Her dad chortled.

"Hell yeah! He used to babysit you from time to time. He was your favorite sitter, too. The only one who could outlast you at Hide and Seek."

That brought back a fuzzy, hazy memory. A boy, maybe around her age now, maybe a bit younger. He smiled all the time, and he was always happy to carry her on his shoulders.

"Right ... I think I remember him. But he wasn't my regular sitter ..."

"Laura, his big sister. She was the one your mom and I would call. But sometimes she couldn't make it, so she recommended Derek."

Billie 'hmm'ed and they went back to their episode.

* * *

 **A/N: Alright, that's it for tonight! It's been really hard to write this one down, because this is such an action-packed episode and there are so many details that needed to be put in place, some more subtly than others...**

 **I hope you guys still like this, I assure you I am not lacking inspiration or motivation. Quite the opposite, I've already mapped out the story episode by episode until season 3 already! If my computer hadn't given up on life, this would have been posted 3 weeks ago. Again, I apologize for the sketchy waiting time.**

 **As always, feel free to review, it's what makes my day!**

 **Until next, chapter!**


	10. Back to normal, please?

**A/N: Hello everyone!**

 **I have no excuse for this insanely long wait ... I had most of it written down less than a month after the last chapter was put up, but the last little tidbits gave me hell and it's been a year fron hell on top of that. Which kinda sucks because I've had lots of other chapters written for ages, I just need to get to them!**

 **Now, this one is waaayy more relaxed than the previous chapter. I've had to replay the episode like 5 times at least to write everything right about that night in school and gosh! I had forgotten how unnerving that episode was! Now here comes the aftermath of that horrible horrible night! Enjoy!  
**

 **Also a big thanks to the guest who left me a review the last time, you made my day!**

* * *

 _She was being chased. She could hear the groans behind her. It was at her heels. She was running blindly through the darkness, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her lungs burning in her chest like they never had before. She was scared out of her wits, only capable of running farther even, until she would inevitably collapse, and then ... Then it would be on her and it would be the end. She could hear the cracking as it was barreling through the woods on her tail. She was in the woods. The trail shone in front of her in the moonlight. The branches were whipping at her face, the tree roots raising themselves before her, trying to trip her. The forest itself was against her._

 _Inevitably, she tripped and fell. Twisting around on her back, she saw the dark, looming shape gaining on her and jumping onto her prone figure, the red glowing eyes and sharp canines the last sight she would have of this world ..._

Billie woke up with a scream lodged in her throat. She was in her bed, in her darkened room, legs tangled in her sheets and drenched in sweat. Her heart was beating wildly and she was breathing in gulps of air like a drowning person. It had been a dream. A horrible, terrifying nightmare, but nothing more than a dream.

To calm her racing heartbeat, Billie tried mumbling the lyrics to _All I Have To Do Is Dream_ a few times. Grampa Finstock used to sing it to her when she was a toddler, so much so that it became her favorite lullaby, and now the decades-old rhymes she'd known since childhood soothed her as her eyes darted to every shadow in the room. Everything was in shambles, as it should be. A yard-high pile of clean clothes waiting to be folded on her desk chair, 5 or 6 just-as-high piles of dirty clothes to be washed on the floor, her school supplies scattered over and under the clothing hills, one running shoe thrown on her desk, the other on her gutted school bag near the door. Utter chaos, just as she liked it.

Now that she was calmer, Billie looked at the clock. 4:53AM. The sun would rise in little more than an hour. She'd have to go for a run this morning, nothing could shake the nightmare away otherwise, and the track team meeting had been cancelled - along with every other athletic activity this weekend. Coach had insisted on it, saying he needed to take care of his kid. Billie had been thankful for it, but she desperately needed the physical exhaustion this morning. She'd take to the streets, though. No running in the woods for a while. It would only fuel her nightmares.

Picking up her laptop, Billie chose to check her email and be productive. _Not going back to sleep anytime soon anyway! Might as well get busy ..._

After sifting through a few spam emails and some school stuff, the girl noticed an email she'd sent herself the other day. She clicked on it, the details still fuzzy in her mind. It was that page on the Beast of Gévaudan she'd been reading. The story didn't fascinate her as much as it had at first, but the image she'd noticed the last time popped up and Billie almost shoved her laptop off the bed. That large, looming silhouette, those red glowing eyes and those terrifying fangs. It was that thing from her nightmare, it was almost exactly it. Billie's heart settled back down for a moment as she thought the picture might have inspired the bad dream, but then her mind flashed back to the math hallway, with all its windows. It had been dark, but she remembered far too well how the creature on the roof had looked. A huge animal, crouched down on all four, a black silhouette with red eyes and sharp teeth. The girl's breathing suddenly came back in halted breaths. It couldn't be right. That image was a centuries old drawing of a werewolf. Werewolves didn't exist, right? If they did, it would be known as a fact. That wasn't possible, how could she be the only one to ever have noticed some supernatural creature roaming about? Shouldn't there be tons of them? It made no sense at all!

Scratch that last thought. She wasn't the only one.

Billie yanked her cell from its charger - hard - and unlocked it with hands that shook so much it took her three tries to open her messaging app. Ignoring the missed messages she'd go over later on, she scrolled down. Lydia's message, the one Stiles sent her by accident, the blurry image she'd received. Large dark shape, red glowing eyes, huge-ass fangs ...

That was it. That was what had been after them in the school at night! Billie felt a strange sense of vindication bubbling up inside her. She'd known it had been an animal after all. It wasn't human. But why did Scott and Stiles say it was Derek Hale then? And why had Stiles wanted that picture?

Scott and Stiles. Everything orbited around these two lately, and especially around Scott. The new and amazing skills on the field, the anger issues, the secrecy ...

 _McCall had been involved in the attacks, he said so himself. The **animal** attacks. Derek Hale fit somewhere in there, but how?_

Billie was beginning to shiver under her covers. She'd had a mad 'gang' vibe about McCall lately, especially about him hanging out with Derek Hale. What if it wasn't a typical kind of gang, per se? What if it was ... _What was it he'd said?_

 _"... it's stronger with a pack."_

A pack.

* * *

The crappy powder blue jeep was parked in front of Coach's house. Billie was staring at it through her bedroom window, chewing her lip nervously. She wanted to go, but on the other hand, her dad had been worried sick the other night and she didn't want to add to it by going out with the boys unsupervised.

She'd shut down the insane thoughts about supernatural beings on her morning run. Once the sun had risen and after a few miles with her music blaring, it all seemed so ridiculous. Werewolves? Billie had scoffed loudly, earning an offended glare from an elderly lady walking her overweight pug. _How could someone be so gullible? What next, dragons? Elves and dwarves? Godzilla?_ All the links she'd made in her head appeared as nothing more than the ramblings of a sleep-deprived, imaginative kid who'd just been scared half to death. She swore to herself not to skip on the offered appointment with Miss Morelle next week. Even though she wasn't Billie's favorite teacher by a long shot, Morelle was still good at counseling. Seeing monsters was not a good omen, generally speaking.

Stiles was getting out of the car. Time to take a decision.

If he rang the doorbell, Coach would open the door and see one of his Lacrosse players asking to take his daugther out. He would grill the heck out of Stilinski and the idiot would probably spill everything about their night out right from the get go. Bobby Finstock would most certainly have a coronary and she would never hear the end of it - especially because it was _Stiles Spazztastic Stilinski._

If she went down and opened herself, she could just tell him her friends were picking her up, and there would be no big deal, except maybe to make sure she came back accompanied. Unless he'd been as rattled as her by the events in the school.

Billie had spent most of the last two days holed up at home, in her pyjamas and bathrobe, drinking tea and watching old rom coms. No matter what went on outside in the real world, she could always trust that Marylin Monroe and Jane Russell would sing a few inspired musical numbers and get their man, and all would be well by the time the credits rolled out. It felt safe. And Billie was desperate for anything safe right now.

Stiles was walking up the alley. Screw it, she was getting a ride back. She picked up her bag and her jacket and barreled down the stairs.

Bobby Finstock was sitting at the kitchen table, preparing her class' econ test for the next week.

"Where 'you going, Peanut?"

She turned around to him, putting on her burgundy bomber jacket and picking up her beanie from the table.

"McCall just got dumped. His mother is working a late shift and he's all alone tonight. Stilinski and I are going over to his place to cheer him up."

The scratching of his pen on his notepad stopped. He raised his eyes to her, suddenly serious.

"And what does that entail?"

She shook her messenger bag slightly.

"Well I am providing the obscure kung fu movies, and Stilinski's bringing the cookiedough-flavored ice cream and pickle-flavored chips. He's also my ride to and from Scott's house and ..."

The doorbell rang just in time.

"... And he's here to pick me up. Is that okay?"

Coach had his serious face on. He felt the tug of worry in his gut and would've gladly told his little girl that she couldn't go out tonight, nor any other night ever again for that matter.

He'd been scared half to death the other night, when Billie hadn't answered his numerous phone calls, and then when he got to the school and saw all the Sheriff's department parked outside, lights blaring ominously. For a few, heart wrenching moments, he'd been sure something dreadful had happened to his kid and that he'd never see her again. But then he'd seen her. And she had run to him. Those had been the worst few seconds of his life, and he was definitely not eager to relive any of it. He would have just loved to lock her up in her bedroom, or to put a GPS on her ankle, but he couldn't do that. _Or could he?_

But then again, she was responsible enough to tell him where she was going, who she was with, and to make sure to have a lift home - which he knew was more than most of the kids' parents at school could hope for. Besides, she probably needed to be with her friends to talk and vent over what had happened the other night in school, without their parents hovering over their shoulders. He sighed and nodded.

"Alright, as long as you have you cellphone on you. Call me by 11. Just to keep me posted, alright? And I want Stilinski to deliver you at the very door, not just drop you off at the street corner!"

She nodded gratefully.

"Will do, Coach!"

She quickly came back into the kitchen to peck him on the forehead before going out into the night.

* * *

Stilinski was about to begin abusing the doorbell like a madman when she opened the door. He stood there, finger poised in the air, tongue between his teeth.

"Hey Stilinski. Ready to go?"

He nodded, regaining his composure.

"Yeah. D'your dad let you out without a fight?"

She shrugged and began setting her watch alarm to 10:57, just in case.

"No bloodshed, I just have to call him later on. Let's go, before I change my mind."

He turned around and they went to his jeep.

"I see you've repaired Roscoe."

Stiles banged on the dented hood on his way to the driver's seat.

"You know my baby, indestructible."

She hopped into the passenger seat.

"And 90% made of duct tape."

She gave a strong pull on the handle and the door closed with a jerk.

"Hey hey! It's not a tank! Alright? Be gentle ..."

She just rolled her eyes. _Indestructible, my ass!_ That car would not see the end of the year, she would bet money on it.

* * *

They met Scott at the entrance of the Reserve. He stood right in front of the parked car, the headlights beam hitting him full on before Stiles cut the engine. Billie thought she saw his eyes shining oddly for a second. Like a deer in the headlights, or some other woodland critter. But she got out of the jeep, banging the door again, chalking it up to her crazy nightmare. She had her head full of werewolf/vampire/monster crap today, and she hadn't slept nearly enough to be coherent in her thought process. Those were all very good, rational reasons for her brain to make crazy links like that. _Right?_

"Hey Billie, how 'you doing?"

He was obviously alluding to that night and its inevitable aftermath. She shrugged.

"I'm not gonna lie, I've been better. How are you holding up?"

He shrugged as well.

"Could be better, I guess."

Stiles finally exited the jeep.

"Alright you two, pity-party's over. Lets walk."

Scott sighed.

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

"Okay, we really shouldn't be here. My mom is in a constant state of freak out from what happened at the school."

"Well your mom isn't the Sheriff, okay? There's no comparison. Trust me."

Billie tried to keep her laughter quiet. As overprotective as Bobby Finstock could be, he must be a breeze to live with compared to the whole Sheriff's department breathing down Stilinski's neck!

''Can you at least tell me what we're doing out here?"

 _Didn't Stiles tell McCall the plan?_ He'd texted it all in detail to Billie hours ago!

"Yes. When your best friend gets dumped..."

"I didn't get dumped! ... We're taking a break."

Billie rolled her eyes and kept walking toward the trees. Everybody knew a break meant getting dumped in slow-motion! Even a girl who had never dated before.

"Alright. Well, when your best friend gets told by their girlfriend that they're taking a break ... You get your best friend drunk!"

Stiles had paused for dramatic effect before pulling a bottle of whiskey out of his jacket. Scott's face lit up in happy surprise and he looked back and forth between his two friends. Billie shook her head, and her bag.

"Don't look at me McCall, it was his idea. Besides, I've only got the chips and candy in here."

They reached the treeline and walked on, Scott and Billie following Stiles. The leafless branches cast crooked shadows on the ground under the moonlight. An unwelcome shiver went up Billie's spine and tickled the nape of her neck. No matter how much she rationalized, her nightmare had been in the woods at night, and being in the woods at night less than 24 hours later brought back the feeling of terror in her mind and a bit of bile in her mouth. Scott's eyes grew concerned on her left.

"Hey Finstock, you sure you're okay? You look kind of ... rattled."

She shook her head and laughed.

"Keep asking me that question and I'll rattle you, McCall!"

Billie slung her arm over Scott's shoulders and shook him left and right as he finally laughed. The trio walk into the woods, intent on forgetting all their woes for the night.

* * *

''Dude, you know, she's just one - one girl. You know there are so many ... there are so many other girls in the sea.''

Stiles was stumbling drunk already and his words were slurred to a point almost beyond comprehension. Billie giggled, sitting cross-legged in front of both boys. She handed the bottle back to Scott.

''Fish in the sea, dumbass!''

''Fish? Why're you talking 'bout fish? I'm talking about girls. I love girls. I love 'em. Especially ones with strawberry blond hair, green eyes, 5' 3'' ...''

Billie and Scott shared a look, both of them very aware of whom their friend was talking about. Scott sighed.

''Like Lydia?''

Stiles, however, was too drunk to notice his friends being slightly exasperated by his obsessive crush.

''Yeah, exactly. Hey, how did you know I was talking about ... about ... What was I talking about?''

Billie could not keep her laughter in check any longer and pointed her finger at Stiles.

"Stilinski, you're drunk!"

Billie rolled on her back as Stiles gave her an indignant glare.

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Am not!"

"Are too!''

Scott cut the pair off exasperatedly.

"Stiles, you're wasted. And so are you, Billie."

She sat back on her haunches and looked up at him.

"I'm pretty sure I still fall in the realm of 'tipsy', whereas Stilinski over here is three sheets to the wind!"

The shaggy-haired boy sighed again, and this time, Stiles noticed.

''Hey, you're not happy. Take a drink.''

Scott left the bottle where it sat next to the stump he was sitting on.

''I don't want any more.''

Stilinski sat up, staring at his best friend.

''You're not drunk?''

''I'm not anything.''

Billie's watch began dinging annoyingly while Scott grumbled his unhappy answer.

''Shoot, my dad! Alright you two. I'm gonna go call him over there, try not to make too much noise?''

Scott nodded silently and Stiles ignored her completely.

''Hey, maybe it's like ...''

Billie walked a little ways away into the woods and pulled out her cell. Her father answered on the third ring. He'd been asleep, that was obvious.

''Mhmmyeah? Who's it?''

Billie tired to articulate specially well, hoping her dad's sleepy daze would cover for her slight drunkenness.

''Hey dad. You wanted me to check in at 11. It's uh ... 10:58 now.''

He cleared his throat loudly.

''Oh right. Sorry Peanut, must've dozed off. Everything alright?''

''Yep, we're chill. McCall is a bit of a downer, to be honest, but that's to be expected.''

''Yeah that's ... that's none of my business, really. D'you know when you're coming home?''

''Umm ... Well, we're just about to start watching _Iron Monkey_. Is it okay if I come back after that one?''

Coach Finstock was very nearly falling back asleep on the other end of the phone, so he chose to cut to the chase.

''Um, sure. Is Stilinski still dropping you off?''

 _Stilinski!_ She shot a look through the trees in the general direction of her friends. Her friends who were drunk _and still drinking!_ Especially Stiles, who was apparently the very definition of a cheap date. Just now, the reality of the stupid, bad situation she was in fell on the girl's head like a hammer. How was she going back home? She couldn't drive. Stiles could certainly not drive! Scott seemed sober enough, but he'd been drinking too. _Maybe he had a stronger constitution than his friends?_ Still, she didn't feel comfortable getting into a moving car with someone whose breath smelled of whiskey at the wheel! Billie always felt uneasy lying to her father, but the words tumbled out of her mouth anyway.

''Yeah, of course.''

''Alright, then. D'you have your keys?''

At least she didn't have to lie about that. She pulled them out of her pocket and jingled them next to the phone.

''Yeah I do. You can go back to sleep, I'll be fine.''

''Good then, have fun with the boys, Peanut. Good night.''

''G'night dad.''

Billie took a few deep breaths after hanging up. _Stupid, stupid, stupid!_ What the Hell were the three of them thinking?! She grumbled under her breath as she walked back to the boys.

''... I know this. I know that as much as being broken up hurts, being alone is way worse.''

 _Was Stiles being philosophical? Ouch!_ Billie sighed. He had to be completely plastered to spew nonsense like that.

''That doesn't make any sense, Stiles.''

He looked up to her when she spoke, his eyebrows raised up to his hairline.

''No? Alright, I need a drink.''

An unknown voice interrupted the boy in his clumsy movements towards the - nearly empty - bottle.

''Well, look at the little bitches getting their drink on.''

The trio turned around. Two guys were standing nearby, staring at them. The one who'd spoken grabbed the bottle from Stiles' hands. Scott was glaring at them, while Billie stood still, her whole body going tense. _This just keeps getting better and better!_

''Give it back.''

The older boy, about to take a swig of their whiskey, stopped and stared at McCall.

''What's that, little man?''

His friend sniggered behind him.

''I think he wants a drink.''

Scott stood and glared at the two uninvited guests. Finstock Jr stayed a few steps behind her friends, her level of panic increasing tenfold.

''I want the bottle.''

''Scott, maybe we should just go.''

Stiles stood up with his friend, fear sobering him up nicely. He gave Billie a quick reassuring glance, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down nervously.

''You guys brought me here to get me drunk. I'm not drunk yet.''

Scott was standing toe-to-toe with the other guy, who was at least 5 inches taller.

''Give me the bottle.''

Scott was becoming downright scary. Suddenly, the young Assistant-Coach saw a boy who very well could wound a teammate to get to his goal. A boy who could hurt people. There was something in the way he stood that was asking for trouble. It was as if Scott _wanted_ to fight with these two bozos. His voice sounded almost a full octave lower than usual when he spoke again.

''Give me the bottle of Jack.''

Even she jumped this time. She had no shame admitting it, she was scared. McCall was definitely not in his normal state, and it had nothing to do with drunkenness. Billie Finstock now rued the very moment, hours ago, when she'd decided to climb into Stilinski's beat up Jeep. The clatter of broken glass brought her back to the situation at hand. Scott had tossed - no, thrown - the bottle against a tree, where it had shattered into a thousand tiny pieces. The two guys were retreating into the woods, leaving the trio to their own devices.

''Okay, I'm done.''

Billie's trembling voice rang out in the awkward silence. Both boys turned to look at her.

''I ... I wanna go back home. So, I'm gonna go.''

Her unease had not ebbed at all, and her whole body broke out in unwelcome goosebumps under her sleeves.

''Yeah, okay. We can take you ...''

She cut Stiles off quickly.

''No. You ... you guys can't. You've had too much booze to drive. I'll just ... I'll just walk.''

''You're probably right, Billie. We'll walk you home.''

Scott tried to put a hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged him off immediately.

''No. I don't mind the quiet time, actually. I'll see you boys in school.''

Before either of them could say anything else, Billie walked away.

* * *

Her walk soon turned into a jog, and even though she was wearing her heavy-soled burgundy combat boots - that were in no way proper running apparel - she ended up running back home through the empty streets of Beacon Hills. The physical exertion made her feel better, but the fact that Scott ''Puppy Eyes'' McCall had scared her out of her wits was still incredibly unsettling. If she'd had any doubt that something was seriously wrong with McCall, tonight he'd put those doubts to rest. He really _was_ fucked up.

Billie came home not too long before the time she'd told to her dad. Hoping and praying to all the saints in heaven that her father was not asleep on the couch, she turned the key and pushed the door extremely slowly and carefully. The entrance was dark, just like the living room. With a silent sigh of relief, Billie took her boots off, which took an embarrassingly long time, if she was honest with herself. That was the clearest sign of inebriation she'd had all night long. Her fingers were clumsy and slow and her balance was wobbly at best. Walking unbearably slowly, Billie went up the stairs and tiptoed into her bedroom. As soon as she was in her own safe, messy haven, she flopped face down onto her bed. She was exhausted.

She didn't like being scared, and she never - EVER - wanted to be put in such a situation again. No way was McCall in his right mind, that was confirmed. She wondered whether it would be better to keep him on a tight leash or to give him a wide berth in the coming weeks. For her peace of mind, she hoped she could avoid him - and Stiles - for a few days, outside of practice and class. If hanging out with the two of them led her to live traumatic experiences and have terrifying nightmares and think legendary creatures were real, she could do with a little separation.

* * *

Monday morning came along way too quickly for her liking. Coach Finstock made pancakes and sat a still bleary-eyed Billie at the table to make sure she had a hearty breakfast before going to school. Billie herself had decided to spend as much time as possible getting ready - and pretty - to avoid thinking about the whole ordeal of going back to these hallways that still gave her nightmares every night.

The bright red eyeliner and lipstick she put on felt like war paint, she wore her red flowery dress and blue tights like an armor, and after a last fortifying breath, she strode into the school like she owned the damn place. No matter how insecure she might feel, she would fake it 'till she made it.

''Hey Finstock!''

She turned around and saw Lahey coming her way. For the first time ever, Billie wanted him to hug her. She wanted comfort, she wanted warmth, and seeing Isaac in his grey hoodie reminded her of how comfy and warm and _safe_ she had felt in that hoodie. She inwardly shook herself. Lahey wasn't a cuddly Care Bear, dammit, he was her friend. _So is Stiles, who you've hugged plenty of times! What's so different about hugging Isaac?_ Ignoring the pesky voice in her mind that liked arguing way too much, she put on her bravest 'I'm fine' face and waited for him to catch up.

''Hey, Isaac. D'you have a nice weekend?''

He seemed taken aback for a second, and she understood why as soon as he spoke again in a hurried whisper.

''What happened to you this weekend? D'you fall off the face of the Earth or something? Does it have anything to do with whatever happened here last week?''

She didn't flinch, and pretended surprise and confusion. She'd have to do the same with everyone else anyway.

''What? No, why? Do you know what happened? I heard there was some serious vandalism ...''

Isaac crossed his arms and stared her down skeptically.

''Oh? I don't know. I thought you might, what with your Assistant-Coach status ...''

Relief washed over her and she chuckled.

''Oh! No, obviously I don't. You know, police confidentiality and all that ...''

''Yeah, I'm guessing you were just too busy to answer your phone this weekend. Assistant-Coach stuff, right? Was it the swim team?''

Billie nodded, glad that he was providing her all the excuses she needed. However, Lahey began scowling.

''Bullshit, Finstock. Every sports activity was cancelled this weekend.''

Right. She'd walked straight into that one, hadn't she? _More like skipped and sauntered, really_. Billie stopped in front of her locker and pretended to focus on her combination lock, but the intensity with which she was staring at the numbers could have melted the metal. Lahey barreled on.

''I sent you, like, 7 texts. You never answered a single one.''

She looked up, surprised.

''You did? ... Wait, 7 messages? Why?''

With an exasperated sigh, he pulled out his old - more like ancient - flip phone and began reading them to her one by one, holding up a finger at every new text.

 **\- Hey Finstock, is the track team still meeting Saturday morning?**

 **\- I got an email that said all athletic activities were cancelled until next week so ... ?**

 **\- I guess not, wanna go for a run? I need the practice ...**

 **\- Busy today? Maybe tomorrow then?**

 **\- Billie? Are you okay?**

 **\- Getting a little worried now ...**

 **\- I called your dad, he said you're not feeling well ... Need anything?**

The blond boy waved his phone around emphatically.

''D'you know how long it takes me to type a grammatically correct sentence on this thing? Seriously, Finstock!''

Lahey's disappointed glare was almost enough to bring Billie to tears right then and there. She hadn't thought he would worry, but then again, it was Isaac. How he pretty much always knew that she wasn't _really_ alright was baffling to her. And a bit annoying, because now her whole carefully planned facade was slipping off, and she could not afford to let that happen. With a trembling voice and her eyes still cast down, Billie answered him.

''Sorry, Isaac. I just ... Can we please not talk about this right now? My um ... my mascara's not waterproof.''

''Oh.''

He understood the implication perfectly and felt shame weighing down on his shoulders. The girl was very upset, he'd seen that easily enough - Billie always went the extra mile to look pretty when she wasn't feeling her best. Some would call it overcompensating - and all he'd managed to do was upset her even more. _Well done, twit!_ He stuttered a quick excuse and tried to change the subject awkwardly.

''Right, so ... I guess apart from that, I had a chill weekend. I um ... yeah no, sorry. I was bored out of my mind by Saturday morning and I ended up getting ahead in the Math homework and reading my Amazing Spider-Man comics for the hundredth time. Can you believe how sad and pathetic I am?''

That brought a chuckle out of her. She finally opened her locker and quickly glanced at her magnetic mirror inside the door. Still picture perfect. _Phew!_

''Well at least you were being mildly productive. All I did was re-watch a bunch of old movies and stew in the bath until the bubbles had gone away and my fingers were all wrinkled.''

He laughed as she pulled out her books and binder and closed the locker again.

''Bubble bath? What are you, five?''

She swatted him on the arm.

''I'll bet it was pink and bubblegum scented too.''

Isaac kept making good fun of her, seeing the eye-roll and smirk she wore now as far better than the big tear-filled eyes and trembling jaw from a few minutes ago. Billie was much prettier when she smiled. _Wait, what? Oh nevermind!_ Isaac's own mind let go of the matter in an instant. She was pretty, and that was that. No need to have a panic attack over it!

''Peach-scented, if you must know. I hate the fake bubblegum scent. It's waayyy too much for my delicate nose!''

''Pffft! Your delicate nose!''

He snorted and she pulled her tongue out at him as they headed into class for the Chemistry test.

* * *

The test hadn't even started ten minutes ago, yet there was already drama in the air. Scott, sitting to Billie's right, had begun breathing hard and fidgeting in his seat. Billie had trouble concentrating on her paper, but she forced her eyes to stay on question #4. That is, until McCall shot up from his desk and ran out of the room like his chair was on fire! Sure enough, Stiles followed him a second later, Mr Harris calling to them with no consequence at all.

Billie knew he'd been dumped and that it had hit him like a ton of bricks, but his reaction was a bit much. _Wasn't it?_ She tried to turn her mind back to the test, but it took her a good ten minutes to put McCall and his love tribulations out of her mind. As scary as he'd been the other night, Billie felt nothing but pity and worry for him at the moment. Heartbreak was a bitch. She should know ... _Not now, not now, dammit!_ Before she could keep her mind from wandering to any painful place, her eyes were getting misty again and she sniffed once or twice - okay, maybe more than that - to keep any unwanted tears in.

Miraculously, a tissue materialized on the edge of her desk. Looking up, Billie only saw Lydia Martin's arm retreating back. The redhead didn't even look her way, but Billie felt grateful for it. Lydia didn't ask questions. She didn't let herself get sidetracked by someone else's drama - or everything else they'd been through lately. _Because she had been there too._ Lydia Martin just focused. Dabbing at her eyes discreetly, Billie took a deep breath and stared down the test sheet.

 _Grades first, drama later._

* * *

On their way out of the class, Isaac practically ran after her.

''That wasn't as much of a bloodbath as I'd thought ...''

As relieved as Lahey sounded when he'd said it, the word bloodbath made Billie's own blood run cold in her veins. She slowed her walk and her whole body tensed, but this time Lahey stayed blissfully unaware of her reaction.

''I mean, it wasn't easy by a long shot, but ... You know Harris has a reputation, and his tests are supposed to be hell in paper form! I thought I'd get the test sheet and read, like, a weird foreign language or something ...''

Billie hmmed, only listening to half of what her friend said as they walked down the hallway. Down the well-lit, crowded hallway, in the middle of the day, where she had nothing to fear. _Deep breaths, Finstock, deep breaths ..._

''... but I actually had a pretty good grasp on everything. Sure, there's a few questions that gave me cold sweats, but not half as bad as it usually is ...''

They went down the stairs to the ground floor. Billie kept clutching her school bag straps tightly in her hands. This was going to be a long day if she was going to be on the verge of a panic attack every time she had to walk between classes.

'' ... so I guess I wanna say ... Well, thanks for the tutoring, Finstock. I couldn't have made it through this test without your help.''

Billie's head turned to stare at Isaac's looming form on her left as he raised an arm to scratch the back of his neck nervously. He was blushing - adorably so. She smiled. Scott McCall wasn't the only boy in school who had the puppy-eyed look down, apparently!

''Oh, it's nothing, really. I'm glad I could help.''

''We're still studying this week, right? When are you free?''

''Thursday should be good. Oh, don't forget the quarter finals on Wednesday night. Those games are usually pretty rough, you might get called on the field to replace an injured player!''

Isaac chuckled, but there was definitely a slight worry in his light blue eyes.

''Well that's not reassuring at all! Also ... Um, I wanted ...''

He took a deep breath and forged ahead. He'd made up his mind about it during the test, he was not going to back out now.

''I wanna take you out, I mean ... as thanks for helping me out in Chem like you do.''

''Oh.''

That was all she could muster, the surprise of this unexpected invitation smacking her silly. Isaac rambled on.

''Pizza, burgers, my treat. You could say that business has been good at the graveyard. So ... what do you say?''

Billie's mouth quirked up in a wide smile without her say-so, and she found herself nodding.

''Yeah, sounds great! We can iron out the specifics on Thursday, alright?''

He smiled as widely as she had, and nodded energetically.

''Fine by me.''

''Alright, I gotta go see Coach about some line-up problems. See ya, Isaac!''

''Bye Billie!''

They had just reached Coach's office and Billie almost sauntered through the open door.

* * *

Her dad didn't look up from his roster, but grunted in annoyance.

''Can you believe it? A pink-eye epidemic! I swear, these twits will be the end of me!''

Billie giggled and hurriedly tried to cover her girlish outburst with a cough. She wasn't sure she wanted to share the news of Isaac's invitation with her dad just yet. Of course she'd have to tell him before the 'going out' happened, but maybe not right now? She hadn't had any time to wrap her own mind around it yet. And they had a Lacrosse crisis on their hands.

 _Sports first, drama later._

''Pink-eye? Jeezus, what are they, eleven? So how many do we have to bench for congenital stupidity, Coach?''

Coach mumbled for a few more seconds.

''At least three first-liners. The other two we don't need to replace as urgently - especially not Greenberg. Can't believe they're doing this to me, right before the quarter-finals!''

Billie played along.

''Yeah, what a bunch of ungrateful children!''

''You can say that again, kid.''

Coach looked up with a resigned sigh.

''Alright Peanut, pull out your stats. Tell me who we can promote to first-line.''

Billie pulled her 'Official Assistant-Coach Top-Secret Binder' - as Coach had jokingly called it - from her bag and began thinking aloud.

''Rodrigez is my first choice. He's got the stats and he's been on the team long enough to know how to play along with the other first-liners. As for the other two ... What d'you think about Evan Taylor?''

''The Junior who transferred last semester?''

She nodded and Coach thought about his player.

''Decent, I guess. His aim isn't the best, but he can pass. Might be good to have him on the field. God knows there's no shortage of ego on first line!''

''His stats are pretty good too. Not as good as those he'd be playing with, but I don't think he'll be too overwhelmed.''

Coach nodded his assent and wrote down the names on his pad.

''Good. Two out of three. Anyone else stand out? Your friend Lahey, maybe?''

Billie fought the deep blush that came to her face when her dad spoke. She pretended to frown over his stat sheet. His numbers were fairly good, even though he'd yet to play a single minute in a real game. He had the potential, but he was too new on the team. He still struggled to remember the Lacrosse rules on his own. She couldn't put him on the field now.

''Lahey? Not sure ... His stats are good, but he hasn't had any time to improve his cardio.''

Coach was staring at his daughter skeptically, waiting for her to go on. He knew there was something going on between his little Peanut and the tall boy, more than just studying. He'd been a teenager too, some time ago, he could recognize the signs on his daughter - no matter how unwelcome these felt to him. For goodness' sake, the boy had called Coach's cell phone to check up on Billie this weekend!

''I don't think he's ready for first line just yet. It's no use putting him up there if he can't follow the other players. He'll only slow the team down. Let me check ...''

She felt wretched for probably benching Isaac for the rest of the season, but he wasn't ready yet. She rifled through her papers a bit, trying to find that pesky composure of hers that had momentarily run away. Losing herself in the numbers for almost a full minute, she perked up at the sight of someone else's decent stats sheet.

''Stiles maybe?''

''Stiles? The Stilinski kid? Are you serious Peanut?''

She reviewed the numbers as she spoke.

''Actually, I can't believe I'm saying this, but yeah. His aim is okay, he's not the fastest on his sticks but he can keep up with the others ... And he's McCall's best friend, he trains with him all the time outside of practice. These two are a good team together. If he can play wing-man for our new MVP, why the heck not?''

Coach thought about it for a moment, then he shrugged and scribbled the third name on his roster.

''To hell with it, you're right. Let's try him.''

Billie pumped her fist in the air happily. She might have benched Isaac, but at least she'd done right by another friend. Her dad wasn't done with the team prep meeting, however.

''What d'you think about McCall?''

Billie was taken aback, she'd had that discussion with Bobby Finstock before.

''What d'you mean, Dad?''

''As a player, as a team member, as a leader? I wanna know if the other players would follow him. If he could call the shots in a game.''

Billie eyed her father suspiciously.

''Isn't that Whittemore's job, as team captain?''

''Well yeah, but ... I don't know. Jackson's had a bit of a rough patch lately. His aim's a bit off kilter too, after that shoulder incident the other week. McCall's more of a team player, generally speaking. Lacks a bit of aggressiveness, but then again Jackson's got more than enough for the both of them!''

''Okay, so what are you thinking, exactly?''

Her dad sat up straight in his chair and stared at her seriously.

''I want to make McCall co-captain. I think the two of them would ... balance each other out, if you will.''

''Or rip each other apart. Dad, I'm not sure that's such a great idea ...''

Billie had a sudden flashback of Scott's eyes when they were in the woods. They'd been so animal, so soulless. Almost like the description of a shark's stare in _Jaws_. The boy had been more than aggressive back then. He'd been unhinged. What if _that_ boy came out on the field? What if he injured another player again?

''Come on, Peanut! Where's your sense of adventure? Let's take a risk! Plus, if we change the first line's line up today, it might be good to have a co-captain to help the newbies get ... integrated, don't you think?''

Billie's gut feeling was anything but favorable, but as long as she didn't have any concrete reason to shoot down Scotty, she could not act on it. Coach would need something more than just a wobbly gut-feeling to bench his most promising recruit. She sighed and nodded.

''I guess if you want to try it so badly ... I still think it's too early to set him up like that, but whatever.''

Coach grinned victoriously.

''Atta girl!''

* * *

The team was assembling in the locker room, awaiting their Coach and his instructions. Billie saw Stiles and Scott sitting down on a bench, slowly putting on their gear. She could not repress the smile that had been fighting its way to her face for half a day now. Not only was her father asking for her opinion - seriously - and now relying on her carefully built stats, but she had just put one of her best friends on first line, and the other was being named co-captain! No matter her reservations now, Billie Finstock was ecstatic. She wanted to strut around the lockers like a proud peacock or some other, equally fancy animal. She especially couldn't wait to see Whittemore's annoying face when he'd hear the news. That would knock him down a peg or ten!

Coach walked in with his pad in hand, and she stood next to him, shoulders back and still smiling. He nodded to her and she blew a shrill whistle. Coach then began his pre-practice speech.

''Alright geniuses, listen up.''

The players all clustered around them.

''Due to the recent pink eye epidemic - thank you, Greenberg - the following people have made first line on a probationary basis. Emphasis on the word PRO-BATIONARY.''

The tension had suddenly risen in the locker room and everyone was fidgeting as Coach began reading from his pad.

''Rodrigez! Welcome to first line.''

The round faced boy was quietly congratulated as Coach went on.

''Taylor! And uhh ...''

Billie was eyeing Stilinski from the side and she had to hide behind her own pad to keep herself from laughing out loud. Poor boy was half sitting, half standing, tense as a piano string, his eyes wild. It didn't help one bit that Bobby Finstock was extending the suspense beyond the reasonable.

''Oh, for the love of crap! I can't even read my own writing! What ... What is that, an S?"

Billie glanced at the paper he was showing her and nodded to her father, who completely ignored her.

''No no, that's not an S, that's a ... that's a ... That's a B. That's a B! It's definietly a B. Uh Rodrigez, Taylor, and uhh, Bilinski."

Stiles, whose face had already begun falling into disappointment, lit up into incredulous joy. He stood up and began hollering and making ninja moves in the air. Billie could not contain her wide grin anymore, even when Danny's eyeroll ended on her face.

''Seriously? Mega-dork just made first line?"

She tried for an innocent shrug - and admittedly failed.

''Coach's decision."

Speaking of Coach, he'd just told Stiles to shut up after one too many happy exclamation.

"Another thing. From here on out, immediately, we're switching to co-captains. Congratulations McCall!"

Billie barely noticed Scott's deer-in-the-headlights look, she was too busy enjoying the crap out of Whittemore's look of abject betrayal. That'll teach him!

"What?"

Finstock barely turned to his former star-player, already launching into motivational speech mode.

"What d'you mean, what? Jackson this takes nothing away from is about ... combining separate strengths into one unit. This is about taking your unit, McCall's unit. We're making one big ... unit. McCall, it's you and Jackson now. Everybody else ..."

Coach nodded to Billie again, and she took one second to react before whistling again once.

"... asses on the field. Asses on the field!"

* * *

"Crap, my binder! Be back in a minute, Coach!"

Billie was running back trough the hallway to the locker rooms. _How could she forget it, now that it served her so well?_ Grumbling about her own head being screwed on in reverse, Billie never looked up until she opened the door to her dad's office. Which was not as empty as she'd thought.

"Wooaah children!"

The exclamation escaped her. Lydia and Scott separated immediately at the sound of her voice. Neither looked particularly ashamed of their conduct. Billie, however, was livid. She could not even look at the redhead as she spoke.

"Lydia, you shouldn't be here."

The girl turned around and escaped what was sure to be an epic screaming match. Scott, with more defiance than she'd ever seen in him, tried to shoulder his way back to the locker room, but Billie wasn't done with him by a long shot. She grabbed him by the shirt and roughly pushed him back into the closed office.

"Not so fast, Buckaroo."

Scott stood there, tense and looking at the assistant coach from under his brow. He looked ready to pick a fight again. But Billie Finstock was far from easy to intimidate. Not today.

"I can understand a lot of things. I can understand the anger management issues, I can understand the added stress of making first line, and then being named co-captain along with freaking Jackass Whittemore, or the way you acted the other night, with some psycho killer hell bent on skinning you, inside the school with us. I can even understand how that first love is jumbling your heart and your brain. But I cannot and will not be understanding of you messing around behind your best friend's back with another guy's girlfriend. Just because things aren't going the way you want them to with your own girlfriend or ... ex or whatever it is you two are this week! Stiles, your oldest and best friend Stiles, he doesn't deserve that crap you're pulling right now, but you're still dragging him face first in it without a second thought. When did you get this selfish? Scott, this isn't you ..."

The concerned, motherly tone underneath her anger got to him, somehow. His anger seemed to ebb away and was replaced by a mixture of shame and pain and regret.

"It's the full moon ..."

She heard his soft whisper and looked at his hunched shoulders. In the back of her brain, she registered that he was blaming the freaking full moon for his issues, but she didn't even stop to take a breath between both halves of her angry monologue.

"I don't care if it's the alignment of the whole solar system or the World Series, McCall. There is no excuse for behaving like you do and hurting the people who are closest to you ..."

Scott shook her hand off his shoulder and nodded absently.

"Right ..."

It sounded more like a defeated sigh than anything else, but there was no time to dawdle any longer.

"Come on, your teammates are waiting, co-captain McCall."


End file.
